


Pasts Love To Haunt (I'm So Sorry)

by theoneofmanynames



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Basically a shitty Hunger Games AU in the making, F/M, Female original character - Freeform, Gore, Minor Character Death, Multi, Near character death, Slow Burn, Violence, after Beyond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-13 03:23:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 50,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11751027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoneofmanynames/pseuds/theoneofmanynames
Summary: Transferring from one ship to another is jarringly similar, Sam Hatfield just wants to continue on with her life as she has been for so long. Not only is the future unclear for anyone dumb enough to stay working in Security on a starship, her past is equally vindictive. Enough to drag everyone else down around with her.





	1. Late May

 

As the U.S.S. Republic approaches Yorktown, Sam decides the entire thing confuses her. Not the Escher-like construction, the entire concept of a major space port this far away from everything makes no sense. And ok, yes, the Escher-esque bullshit is killing her too. She shifts on the toes of her boots, hands clasped behind her. The years climbing from Ensign to Lieutenant Commander passed in a blink, the Republic sliding into dock in the port as she goes to collect her things from her room. The rest of the crew is here for shore leave. She’s here to flat out leave. It’s almost sad that she has to say goodbye to the ship again, like she had when she accepted the teaching position at the academy. 

One last lecture at her former subordinate and she’s free, walking down the docking bridge. Part three of why Sam Hatfield hates Yorktown was the instant rush of air; it feels too normal, too open after the trip out to the far edge of Federation space. Heaving a sigh, she knows she can’t get too used to it. Her next assignment is set to leave any day now; they’d waited just for her. A ship couldn’t very well set out without their new Chief of Security.

Her next ship is bound to be easy to find, the Constellation class ship marked on the dock registry and green-lighted for departure. Her boots clap a little harder on the ground as she marches through throngs of people. Luckily for her new crew mates, her belongings all fit into the duffle bag slung over her shoulders. Less to move, less to lose. Showing her credentials at the docking bridge, the attendant lets her pass with a notification to the ships Captain. 

—

Jim looks up at the notification from his PADD, snatching it up from the counter before Leonard could catch a look at it. From how fast he rocketed up from the bar, he knew it had to be something important.

“Jim, where the hell are you going?” Leonard calls after him, setting down his glass of bourbon. 

“Our new C.O.S. is here!” Jim calls over his shoulder, walking like he expected Leonard to already be flanking him. Cursing the loss of his bourbon, he quickly jumps into the turbolift with him. 

“Great. Which one did you end up accepting?” Leonard crosses his arms. “Or did they just pick one for you?”

“Lieutenant Commander Samantha Hatfield, served 8 years aboard the U.S.S. Republic,” Jim recites, springing with each step, “An excellent track record during her time there, too.”

McCoy raises a brow, “And, knowing you, how nice was her dossier’s photo?”

“Bones, I would never!” Kirk waits a moment, “Well, she’s pretty, but she’s a little old for me. More your type.”

“And what do you think my type is?” 

Kirk doesn’t get a chance to respond before the turbolift spits them out in the calm but fully staffed bridge. Janice Rand leans against the Captain’s Chair, tapping her nails against the PADD and talking idly to Uhura at her post.

Jim beams as he strides forward, “Good afternoon, Yeoman.”

“Captain,” She nods, “You notified me?”

“Yes, I did,” Jim clasps his hands behind his back, “Our new C.O.S. is coming up, I’ll need you to show her around.”

“Yes, Captain,” She nods again. Leonard can just feel something itching in the back of his skull, especially at that gleeful look on Jim’s face.

—

The USS Enterprise is more or less a beefed up version of the Republic, not to mention infinitesimally more new. She swears she could see her reflection in the monitors as she passed. Finding the right turbolift was almost second nature to her, tapping Deck 1 and not letting her posture drop from ramrod straight. The turbolift slows, and Sam marching out the instant the doors crack open. It’s step for step like the Republic, just different faces staring at her as she marches past. As she reaches the door to the bridge, it slides open for her. Her heels snap together at the sight of the command yellows

“Permission to enter the Bridge, Captain?” She requests, Kirk’s head snapping up from talking to a woman in a red dress. Jim and Leonard both look up, Leonard is suddenly caught up in a pair of hazel eyes. 

“Granted, Lieutenant Commander,” He beams, extending a hand to her, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Hatfield.”

“And you, Captain Kirk,” She steps forward, taking his hand. She gives it a firm shake, “I look forward to serving with you.”

“Please, just Jim is fine,” He assures her. Spock drifts over from his station, brow arched at the newcomer, “Spock, meet Ms. Hatfield. Ms. Hatfield, meet Commander Spock, the ship’s Chief Science Officer and First Officer.”

Spock nods at her, making no move to shake her hand. Sam raises her hand in the Vulcan salute, “ _T'nar pahk sarat y’rani._ ” Spock blinks, raising his own hand in the salute. Uhura’s eyes snap up from her station, frowning at the Lieutenant Commander curiously.

“ _T'nar jaral._ ” He responds to the formal, if not very old fashioned, greeting. He lowers his salute, hands clasping behind him again. “I was unaware from your file that you spoke Vulcan.” 

“An old friend of mine taught me. I’m a little more than rusty, but it serves me well. ” She lowers her own salute, extending a hand to Leonard, “And you are?”

“Dr. Leonard McCoy, Ship’s C.M.O.” He shakes her hand, unsurprised by the callouses and the light scars across her knuckles. She doesn’t look a day older than Kirk does, in his opinion, his eyes catching on her face for a heartbeat. She’s also a lot shorter than he would’ve expected. “Here’s hoping we don’t have to get too acquainted.” 

“Don’t jinx us.” She gives him a smirk. It's a damn shame it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, he muses to himself, returning the smile easily.

“Be sure to stop by later for your physical. I trust you’re in perfect health, but regulations are what they are.” Leonard says.

“Yes’sir,” She nods, like it was an order. Far too formal for Leonard’s liking. 

“Well,” Jim says after a beat, “I’m sure you would like to get your belongings settled before we get underway. Are you expecting any other luggage from the Republic?”

“No, this is all,” she pats the roughed-up khaki duffle, Jim raising his brow at it for a flash but she catches it, “I travel light.”

“Right,” He nods, “Yeoman Rand will show you to your quarters and the Sciences deck-”

“Just the quarters is fine,” Sam interrupts, “I’m sure I can navigate my way around.”

“I insist,” Janice gives her a kind smile, leading her out towards the turbolift, “This way, Lieutenant Commander.”

“It was nice meeting y’all,” She turns on her heel, following the Yeoman out with a slight whip in her ponytail. That catches Leonard’s attention, but Jim looks like he’s about to have a field day. 

“Jim, don’t even start,” McCoy cuts off Kirk before he can get a word out.

“I said I thought she’d be your type-“

“Do you ever listen to me?” Leonard defends, “Now, if you excuse me, I’ve got a Sickbay to prep.” He huffs, stalking off to the closer turbolift, letting himself get taken down to deck 7. A brief nod is all he gets from Nurse Chapel as he walks past, no more than usual. His PADD waits for him on his desk, already glowing with a recent message from one M.D. Dickens - L.A. Starfleet Academy, titled ‘Medical File Transfer - SAH’. He taps it open. 

“Name: Lieutenant Commander Samantha Alexandria Hatfield. 

D.O.B.: 19-04-2225

Species: Human.

Origin: Earth. Cadiz, Kentucky, USA.

Citizenship: Earth.

Rank/Title: Lieutenant Commander, Chief of Security.

Height: 5’3”. 

Weight: 142.6 lbs. 

Physical Status: Cleared as of 03.24.64. 

Vaccine Status: Cleared as of 03.24.64. 

Psychological Evaluation: Cleared as of 06.13.61.  Transcript of Eval.

Family: None listed. 

Emergency Contact: None listed. 

Allergies: None listed.

Service Status: Active

Past assignments: L.A. Academy p 2248-2252, Ensign; U.S.S. Farragut– 2252-2255, Ensign to Lieutenant; U.S.S. Republic -2255-2264, Lieutenant.

Injuries on Duty (Oldest to newest): Knuckle Abrasion 12.01.52. Forehead gash 12.02.53. Forearm gash 01.15.53. Internal hemorrhaging 02.05.53.’ The list of injuries continues right up until two weeks ago, extreme contusions from head to toe– at least a hundred injuries listed. He’d have to ask her about anything she hadn’t told the Republic’s med-crew about when she came in for her physical.

—

Despite being thankful for the help, Sam barely pays attention to the tutorial-esque guiding from the Yeoman. The security complex is easy to find, just a deck higher than she’s used to. Her quarters are tucked into a side of deck 5, larger than her last quarters when she was an ensign, but smaller than she’d like regardless. The duffle bag on her shoulder lands in the closet with a thud, the Yeoman waiting for her in the hall.. Tucking her supplied PADD under her arm, she restrains herself from thumbing through it while the Yeoman talks at her.

As they pass the Sickbay complex, right next to the security sector, she peaks in through the open doors. Luckily, there’s no antiseptic scent washing out into the hall; probably for the best if she was going to spend a lot of time there. They step into the Security Control Room and Sam takes a deep breath, the entire place smelling like plastic mats and pine floor cleaner. A tall man steps out of a far door to meet them, squaring his shoulders as he walks up to meet them.

“Lieutenant Hendorff, I’d like you to meet Lieutenant Commander Samantha Hatfield,” His brows raise as he straightens his back. Sam smirks at the much taller man.

“Nice to meet you Lieutenant,” She offers her hand, which he shakes, “I look forward to serving with you.”

“Likewise, Commander. You can call me Greg.” He nods, retrieving his hand, “I can take to showing her around, if you’d like, Yeoman.”

“That would be much appreciated,” Janice smiles, “If there is anything you need, Commander, you can notify me with the PADD.”

“Thank you, Yeoman,” Sam nods. Hendorff gestures ahead as he leads her further into the Security sector. 

“I’m sorry to hear about Commander Giotto,” Sam offers as he leads her through the corridor, other security officers looking up as the door opens. “I was looking forward to working with him, they spoke highly of him.” Not a bull-faced lie, but condolences were in order if she was taking the man’s place.

“He was an excellent Commander,” She picks up silent doubt from him, almost like he’s comparing her to the man. The tutorial seems to continue, introducing her to the computer system and the armory codes, more of the same talk she’s had over the past 8 years. Her regulation phaser is handed over to her and placed in her locker. Faces pass in fast blurs of introductions, slapping on the fake smile that used to get her through every second of her day. 

–

On her way back to her quarters, Sam takes a brief detour through the medical wing. It’s almost comforting; if there was a place she spent most of her time on the Republic when she was an ensign or back in the academy, it was the Sickbay. As Captain Kirk’s voice comes on over the speakers, she runs right into a solid wall of person. 

_“Attention Enterprise crew.”_ A strangled noise catches in Leonard’s throat as he’s almost thrown off balance by someone slamming into his side.

“ _We have been cleared for departure from Yorktown and will be leaving momentarily. Alpha shift has officially assumed. Welcome back, everyone!_ ” 

Sam curses as she bounds backwards, trying to catch herself with practiced agility. Unfortunately, her foot lands sideways, her legs crumple and send her flying back. A hiss catches in her throat as she pushes herself up, scolding herself for her sudden lack of balance. 

“Dammit,” She groans, “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“No, I’m sorry I got in your way,” Leonard offers a hand to her, the slight drawl peaking through his voice. Sam takes the hand, figuring she oughtn’t be rude. Once she’s back on her feet, Leonard all but towers over her, Sam straightening her back to lessen the difference. “Where were you headed so fast?”

“That just happens to be my normal walking pace.” She says, “But, I was coming by to see if you had time for that Physical,”

Leonard smirks, enjoying her snark, “Absolutely. Why don’t you follow me?”

She nods, keeping pace just a step behind the Doctor. Scanning over his back, he’s definitely appealing, but she snaps her eyes away. Space is not the place for this. Starbases were the only places she should find… entertainment. Especially if it were amongst the Senior Crew and on a 5 year mission. The sickbay smells pristine as Dr. McCoy leads her in, pointing her to a biobed and moving to his office to pick up a PADD and a tricorder from his desk. 

“Alright,” He hums, stepping up and pulling up a divider. “Why don’t we start with the life history section. You ready?”

“Shoot,” She leans back on her hands. 

“When was the last time you were sick from a ship-wide or campus-wide illness?”

“May of last year,” She answers.

“When was your last planet-side injury?”

“12.24.63, Got scratched by some metal on Gerrut II on my hand and side, and yes, I did get treated afterwards. For tetanus and Gerrussian pin worms.”

Leonard raises his brow at how thorough she is. “Are there any injuries you sustained while on active duty that you didn’t report to the medical staff?” 

“Very minor things,” She reasons, before a frown from McCoy gets her to explain, “Papercuts, skinned knuckles.”

“Alright,” He frowns,“But the next time you’re going down on planet and have an open wound, please say something.”

“Yes’sir.” She nods.

“Last time having unprotected sex?”

“Eh, 2 years ago at least?” She shrugs.

“Last time you had a sexual partner in general?” It had to be asked, definitely not more of a personal query.

“About a year ago,” She raises a brow at him, knowing full well that wasn’t a usual question. He writes it on his PADD, continuing on through her other history, briefly questioning her lack of family history and checking that against the transcript from Dickens. Sam just rolls with them, answering every question with the same practiced answers she’d told Dickens. The tricorder section passes quicker than it had with Dickens, that little perfectionist had to scan every inch. 

She doesn’t flinch when he tells her to remove her tunic/dress for the latter half of the exam, even though the general practice was just to use the tricorder. He trusts his hands far more than a piece of machinery. She lifts both layers of tunics over her head, sitting there in matching black underwear and sports bra and a small circular pendant, the gold embossed with a Celtic braid. He raises a brow at the network of scars on her torso and arms, ranging from dark pink to so white he only sees them when she moves to fold her tunic and sets it behind her. She’s just happy her sports bra covers up her most distinctive marking with its racerback. 

“Do they not know how to use a dermal regenerator back on the Republic?” He asks with a raised brow as he checks that there’s no swelling in her abdomen.

“When I first started, I had them leave the scars,” She replies.

“Any reason?” He frowns at her.

“They’re marks of what I’ve overcome. Came to my damn senses a couple years ago, though,” She reasons, toying with her necklace. Leonard doesn’t think to press anymore at the distance her stare gains.

Once he checks that there’s no other problems, he OK’s her to sit up, Sam pulling her red uniform back over her head. “Thanks for coming in so quickly,” He says as he peels back the divider, “I’m used to chasing people down for their physical.”

“I used to spend more time in Sickbay than my office, so I’m used to it,” She gives a dry laugh, “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“Right,” He nods, “Have a good day.”

“And yourself,” Sam waves over her shoulder as she strides out of the Sickbay. McCoy definitely isn’t watching the sway of her hips as the door closes, Chapel striding up and offering him a PADD.

“Who was that?” Christine asks, letting McCoy check over the inventory before he signs off on it.

“Our new Chief of Security,” He huffs, “I get the feeling we’re going to see a lot of her, if her 100-plus recorded injuries has anything to say about it. Looks like we just got a new thorn in our side.”

“I doubt she’ll be as bad as Kirk-“

“Who won’t be as bad as me?” Kirk grins as he strides through the door.

“Speak of the Devil and he will come,” Leonard sighs, “Hatfield just came in for her physical, she’s going to pass your record for longest stay in Sickbay, I can feel it.”

“At least you’ll have something nice to look at while she’s here?” Jim shrugs, “What do you think about her?”

“Hard to say,” He crosses his arms, “Spock say anything?”

“Are you really going to base your opinion of her on whether or not Spock likes her?” Jim jokes, “He said her Vulcan was good, but whoever taught her must have been pretty old. Other than that, he found her record to be impressive.”

“Better not start handing out vokaya amulets,” Leonard snorts, “As for Hatfield, if we’re going to get a lot of her, I’ll be amicable at the very least.”

“If we get a Hatfield and McCoy stand off, we’re going to have problems,” Kirk grins from ear to ear, bearing the smack to the shoulder from Leonard for the reference.

“I swear if you say that again, I’ll issue a ship-wide vaccination.” Leonard threatens.

“But uh, so, would you say she’s your type?” Jim presses. 

“Who the hell knows?” Leonard sighs, “Jim, she’s just another woman we work with. Let’s not stir anything up. Especially not after your last matchmaker escapade.”

Leonard strides into his office, the Captain still pursuing him, “Well, how would I have known she was married! She never wore her ring!”

“She was an engineer, of course she never wore her ring,” He argues, “Jim, we both have better things to be doing with our lives. I don’t need you throwing women at me as a distraction.”

—

At the end of the day, Sam stretches her arms and stands at the center of her small quarters. As she pulls out her two sets of civvies and PJ’s out of her duffle bag, she’s almost worried it’ll be too big for her. She unwraps her bottles of whiskey and a small mason jar of moonshine from her civvies, 3 bottles and the jar having taken up 80% of her bag and stashing them in the middle drawer. The last 20% is a small, ratty shoebox of nostalgia, one she shoves into the bottom of her desk and walks away. She gets three steps away before she opens the desk and rifles through the box, pulling out a small gold compact. Not opening it, it’s the only thing she sets on the desk before she slams her drawer shut. 

She debates it for a while before she pours herself a glass of Southern Comfort– it’s not for the flavor, but it’s nostalgic to her, so damn familiar. _The one glass is all I’ll have_ , she reasons with herself, stashing her rationed booze away again before she even takes a sip. She almost debates pouring it back in– she hadn’t touched any of the bottles while she was on the Republic. Just kept it for a rainy day.

With the glass of bourbon, she settles down at her desk with her PADD, not giving the clock a second glance as she memorizes file after file of her new subordinates. The hum of the engines is a calming constant; she raises the glass to the air.

“Here’s to 5 more years.”


	2. June

Despite the new faces and the new ship, the first week passed like any other week had on the Republic. Gritting her teeth, she restrains from tugging her hair as she leans back in her chair.She’d even taken on extra shifts in her bought of insomnia, tacking some on here and there like she had on the Republic. She’d have to work into it without raising suspicion, but she used to work at least 4 extra shifts a week. Ensign Jaime Becker raises a brow at her from the next chair, the ensign turning back to watch over the security footage. Getting up from her seat, Sam excuses herself, “I’ll be right back, I’m going to go grab a coffee.”

“If it’s no trouble, could you fetch me one too? Black’s good.” He asks, settling heavier into his seat. Gamma shift was set to turn over within the hour, but still coffee sounds nice.

“ O’course,” she drawls, stretching as she walks out of the surveillance room at the back of the Security complex. Humming along the way, other officers mill in for the start of Alpha shift, Sam striding through them on her way to the food synthesizer. It’s busy for 0650, mostly people dawdling around with droopy eyes and at least 2 people simultaneously spilling coffee in their laps. Sam chuckles, picking up two mugs and waits for the replicator to comply to her. The newer model needed a little bit more coercing than what she was used to, but she gets her coffee. She makes a face as she sips the black coffee, not bothering to dump in any sugar; all she wants is the caffeine, something to make her next full shift feel less numb. As she passes a table, her eyes catch with Commander Spock’s, jolting him out of his thousand yard stare over the rim of his tea cup. Her hum goes silent.

“Good Morning, Lieutenant Commander Hatfield,” Spock offers with a nod. 

Sam derails her path to stop at the end of his table, “G’morning, Commander,” She nods, throwing formality out the window from her lack of decent sleep, “How’s your week been?

“It has been adequate,” He sets down his tea, “I trust your first week has gone well?”

“Eh,” She sips her coffee, battling against her tastebuds, ““It’s definitely been more calm. The Republic had some real rabble-rousers. Always kept us busy. Your crew gets along very well.” She quickly tacks on, “Which is great. I’d rather that than break up petty disputes any day.”

“What is left of our previous crew has been through much together,” Spock takes a sip of his tea, “It has certainly made a close bond amongst them.”

Sam hums in acknowledgment, jumping at the sudden clicking of her communicator, “Excuse me, Commander.” Spock nods, returning back to his tea and his forgotten PADD on the table top. Setting the other coffee down, she flips out her communicator.

“Lieutenant Commander, you coming back anytime soon?” Jaime croaks, Sam snorting. 

“Yeah, sorry. I’m on my way back now,” She snaps her com shut, picking the coffee back up, “Sorry to run off on you, Commander. I’ve got to be getting this coffee to my comrade.”

“It is all right,” He assures her, “I’m sure we will run into each other again.”

“ _Lau du nem-tor nash gad_ ,” She says with a final nod. Spock blinks at her retreating form, the old proverb reverberating in his head- ‘ _May you conquer this day_ ’. He frowns at his tea, noting to ask who she’d learned her Vulcan from.

—

Becker downs her entire coffee the instant she walks back in, Sam’s cup already empty and stashed in the pile of mugs in the corner with the sink. She hunkers down in her seat, not planning to leave it for all of alpha shift. The instant the clock turns over to 0800, Becker is off like a rocket. Her feet slow as she gets to the door, “Are you coming, ma’am?”

“I’m working alpha shift too,” She wishes she had more coffee, “If McNiel is out there, get her in here, she’s the next shift with me, and I’m planning on making her run up with the results.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She turns out the door, leaving her to watch the surveillance screens alone. Before long, she’s murmuring a song to herself, itching to be able to read something instead.McNiel is late, as she had been to her last shift, but Sam pays no mind for now. There’s no activity on her screens, her communicator is silent. She’s not tired as she stretches in her chair, just restless, making sure her dress doesn’t scoot too far up as she scoots in her chair. Time passes slowly, looking down and toying with the silver ring on her left pointer finger, twisting it over and over and watching the turquoise gem shift in the light. As the ensign rushes in, Sam only gives her a grunt. Her communicator clicks right as the younger woman takes her seat.

“Lieutenant Hatfield?” The Captain’s voice instantly gets her to sit up straight. A call from the Captain could only mean one of 3 things; away mission, escort mission, or on-ship trouble.

“Yes, Captain.” She replies.

“We’re currently entering orbit around Abarra-Delta, I was hoping you’d like to join us on the planets surface,” He says, Sam grinning from ear to ear.

“Of course, sir,” She gets up from her chair, “Do you suggest more than one officer for this?”

“Just yourself should be fine. The fewer people, the better.” He assures her, “Report to the Transporter room in the next 15 minutes, we’ll be leaving shortly.”

“Yes’sir,” She flips her communicator shut, striding out of the surveillance room. As she secures her phaser on her belt, she accosts a Lieutenant to take over her position. Despite the transporter room being on deck 7, she quickly jumps up one deck to pour a boiling hot cup of coffee down her throat, wanting to wake her up as fully as she can. Stepping onto deck 7 again, she joins almost step for step with Leonard as he makes his way out of the medical sector. 

“Get yourself lost, Hatfield?” McCoy smirks, fiddling with the clasp of his tricorder.

“I wanted to down an extra coffee before we left,” she reasons, “Was up rather late last night, got caught up trying to memorize names again.”

“You are still fit to serve, though, right?” Leonard asks.

“I’m more than fit, Doctor,” She assures him, walking into the transporter room ahead of him. He raises a brow at her dress, the scars on her legs on full display, but he doesn’t question her.

“Ms. Hatfield!” Captain Kirk looks up with a broad smile, “Glad you could join us.”

“My pleasure, Captain,” She nods to both him and Spock in a silent shared greeting, “Any idea what we’ll be dealing with, Dr. Schneps?”

“There are dense clusters of organisms, especially concentrated on the outer reaches of a canyon on the equator,” A woman in a sciences uniform explains, “We will be going down to observe whether they show signs of sentience or higher intelligence, but attempting to not interact. 

“Luckily, there seems to be no geothermal or seismic patterns that could possibly require our assistance.” Spock says, with the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes directed at Kirk. 

Sam senses the jab, especially from Jim’s coy look, “I’m afraid I do not get the reference.”

“You wouldn’t,” McCoy sighs, “It was a while ago. ’58 I think, maybe ’59?”

“Transporter’s ready, Captain,” The technician calls from behind her console, Sam’s one of the first to step up. Her hands clasp behind herself, double checking that at least the Captain also has a phaser on his hip. Leonard hesitates, stomach churning the way it always does with these damned contraptions. 

“Energize.” In a swirl of light, the world wobbles and bends around Sam’s head. A chill ripples through her, ending as sunlight hits her face. Blinking the stars from her eyes, she forces herself to take a breath, lips pulling into a terse line. Leonard swallows his heart back into his chest, cursing under his breath about the damn transporters. When the world comes into view, Leonard shudders and hunches into himself. 

“Not a fan of transporters, Dr. McCoy?” Sam can’t help but ask, looking around the clearing they’d been set in. Wind rushes through willow-like fronds around them, trees clutching to the edges of the canyon-like valley. 

“Not one bit,” he grouses.

“First time I had to use one, I ended up puking, so you’ve got me beat.” She gives him a small smile.

Leonard takes a moment to admire it actually making it to her eyes this time. It stirs something in the depths of his chest, the smallest of pangs. He snaps his eyes away the moment he sees Jim smirking over his shoulder. Dr. Shneps pulls ahead of the group, holding her tricorder out ahead of herself. 

“There’s markers of life to the west,” She says, already walking out that way. Jim takes point a step ahead of her, the rest falling into a spread-out line as they walk through the canyon with Sam taking the back. They walk silently for a good half an hour, and when they start walking through the remnants of a primitive looking camping ground or hunters stop, Dr. Schneps detours the group around it. Wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, Leonard sighs, looking back at the quiet sciences officer. 

“Are you settling in okay?” Leonard asks quietly while Dr. Schneps and Spock study the area. 

“So far, yes,” She says, checking behind her to make sure no one was coming up behind. “Already had to take up a second shift because of lacking staffs, but I’m alright with that.

“When?” Leonard frowns back at her.

“A couple days ago.” Sam lies. A crawling paranoia hits again, checking over her shoulder. No one. “I’ve already caught up my sleep schedule though. No worries.”

“Do make sure not to take up too many extra shifts,” Leonard says, “It’d be a shame to lose our newest crewman from exhaustion.”

“Gonna take a hell of a lot more than that to get my goat,” She smirks.

“Right,” He smirks back at her. She could get used to that smirk. But that paranoid crawl under her skin nags at her, tearing her eyes away from Leonard’s face to check behind again. She always hated the feeling of eyes on her back. As the crewmen continue to walk forward, Sam spots something in the edge of the clearing they’re passing through. 

"Dr. Schneps?" She calls out, getting her attention. The woman wanders back, lips pursed. Pointing to a pile of rock flakes on the ground and broken animal bones, "I think this could be of importance."

The woman perks up, rushing to scan over the area, "Well spotted! These must be lithic era organisms, and this where they sharpened their tools. And the marrow in these bones looks quite fresh–"

Grunting through the trees snapsall eyes to the the canyon wall, Sam and Jim raising their phasers at the shaking foliage.

The first glimpse Sam catches is through a veil of vines, the red-brown mop of hair running at them. Tree limbs snap as the gargantuan humanoid-being crashes down from the canyon wall, spear reeled back in one hand. A rattling bellow pierces the air, Sam not even ducking as the spear flies. Luckily, it misses her head and she manages to shoot its chest, the body dropping to the ground with a dull ‘ _thud_ ’. A moment of silence passes through the foliage, not even the wind whistling through. But then the cry starts, a piercing screech that grows exponentially louder as dozens more erupt into the tree branches. Scooting backwards, Sam can’t count the amount of eyes peering from the foliage. Aiming her phaser, Sam is ready to drop them all.

It takes a hand tugging on her upper arm to get her to run, Sam stumbling after Leonard as spears rain down behind them. She easily surpasses him, Leonard dropping her arm to not get clothes-lined by a tree trunk. But of course, her left foot _had_ to go right through a hole in a log, sending her tumbling. McCoy’s heart almost stops as he cuts himself off mid-stride and stoops to offer his hand. Without a word, she takes it. Her ankle pulses, pain rocketing up her leg- but she could handle this for now. Gritting her teeth, she pushes herself to run faster. Kirk screams into his communicator, the Transporter operator frantically trying to lock onto them through the wandering canyon. They break into a clearing, Sam gimping to a stop against Leonard’s side. As leaves begin to shutter, Sam feels the tug in her gut from the transporter. Taking a deep breath of moist air, she closes her eyes as she feels that chill. 

Only when her eyes open to the blue tint of the transporter room does she realize that she’s still clutching onto Leonard’s hand. Following up his arm to his face, her stomach clenches when he looks right into her eyes. When she shifts her weight onto her other leg, pain rattles her body. She winces, and Leonard sees it instantly.

“What hurts?” He asks.

“My ankle is on fire,” She grits, shifting to stand on the other foot.

“Let’s get you up to Sickbay,” He sighs, “Need any help walking?”

“Only if you don’t want me making it worse,” She replies.

“Definitely wouldn’t want that,” He chuckles deep in his chest. Fuck, did that settle right in the wrong places for Sam. She tries her best not to screech as Leonard helps her down the steps, arm looping tightly around her waist. 

“Are you all right, Ms. Hatfield?” Jim asks as he falls into step with them, as gimpy as that step is. It takes a moment, but Spock shadows them as they turn down another hall, Dr. Schneps walking down the opposite direction.

“Yeah,” She nods, wincing as she takes a harder step on her gimp leg on accident, “Oh, this feels broken.”

“What would you say your pain level is?” Leonard asks.

“10 being the worst?” She purses her lips as she thinks, “Maybe a 6? My toes are startin’ to go a little numb.”

“Better get you there quicker then,” Leonard tries to lead her along faster.

“What? No, I think we could still go for a midday stroll around the ship, head down to the Observation lounge. Have a drink. Get to know each other a little before we splint up my leg.” She snarks sarcastically, “It would still be fine. I might blow out the zipper in my boot though, I feel it starting to give.”

“Hopefully we won’t have to cut you out of it,” The growing smile on Leonard’s face makes Sam’s heart pulse. _Oh fuck,_ she curses at herself, her free hand clutching into a tighter fist.

“That would definitely be a shame,” Sam says, trying to clamp down her heart. 

Leonard’s mind roars with pleasant static as they walk, the weight of her in his arms and against his side pleasant. She barely even notices them walking into the Sickbay from her stealing glances. Empty beds stagger along the wall and the nurses buzz around the nurses station in their lull. One of them looks up as McCoy helps Sam onto the foot of an open bed, the same nurse that conducted her physical.

“What happened?” Christine Chapel asks as she walks over.

“A broken ankle, probably,” McCoy sighs, taking to a knee at the end of the bed, “I’m going to remove your boot now, okay?” 

“Go for it,” She grunts, hands clutching onto the sides of the bed. The zipper tugs down slowly, catching over her swollen ankle and hitching her breath. Leonard’s eyes snap up to hers, hand stopping on her ankle. Her eyes lock into his, nodding for him to continue, gritting her teeth to stop the pain from showing too much. A deep breath and a roll of his shoulders is all he need before he gently continues to unzip her boot. 

Her ankle practically spills out of the boot as he peels it away, skin pudgy and splotched dark purple and blue. Definitely could be worse, but the pain finally starts hitting and a nervous laugh bubbles right out. Why, for the love of God, did that have to be her go-to noise? Her natural reaction to pain or distress just had to be God awful, strained laughter. Dr. McCoy looks up to her, brow arched in curiosity as he slips off her boot and sock. 

“Something funny?” He asks as he accepts a tricorder from Nurse Chapel.

“I um… I just always laugh when I get hurt. Some people curse like the dickens, but I split between that and laughing,” She explains, pushing a stray lock of hair out of her face.

“It’s not unheard of…” He trails off, restraining himself from almost calling her pained-laughter cute. They settle into an odd silence as McCoy scans over her ankle, Sam trying to suppress her giggles. With a sigh, he settles back on his haunches.

“It’s fractured, alright.” He gets up with a huff, “Go ahead and sit further back, I need your leg flat for this.”

She does as she’s told, setting her leg up on the bed as gingerly as she can. The purple ball that is now her ankle jolts with every twitch of her leg muscle, her laugh catching in her throat as she forces herself to just look away. McCoy’s concerned smile grows as he walks back over, amusement hiding beneath it.

“This’ll take a little while.” He picks up a small, box like machine and settles it over top of her ankle. “It’ll cure the fracture most of the way and realign it.”

“Thank you, Dr. McCoy,” She leans back on her hands as the machine starts up. 

“It’s no problem at all, darlin’,” He drawls as he moves to put away his tricorder. She doesn’t see it in the glass’s reflection, but McCoy winces at that bit of habit. “You can feel free to call me Leonard, by the way.”

“Okay then, Leonard,” She laughs nervously as the machine chills her leg, her toes numbing, “You can feel free to call me Sam then.”

“It’s a deal then,” He smiles over his shoulder. A silence settles between them until the Sickbay doors whoosh open, the Captain striding in with a widening grin. 

“Are you alright, Ms. Hatfield?” Jim asks as he walks up to the bedside.

“You can just call me Sam,” She says, leaning back on her arms, “It’s just a broken ankle, I’ve had worse.”

“How’s it feel?” Leonard asks, leaning against the edge of another biobed. 

“Numb and cold?” She snorts as another chill races through her leg from the machine, “Doesn’t hurt much now.”

“That’s good,” he says, “Now, I want you to be ginger with this leg for the next week. If there’s any pain in it, come right back here.”

“Yes, sir,” She nods, lifting her hands to tighten her high ponytail to quit resting on her neck. Shifting to rest against the wall, her damn skirt rising further up her thighs before she can smooth it back down, the black spandex short-shorts peaking out and hiding again before Leonard can stare for too long. Clearing his throat, McCoy turns away to read something on his PADD, Sam quickly pulling down her skirt.

“So, you two already on holding hands?” Jim whispers coyly.

“Jim, don’t you start with me,” He hisses, tapping into her file to list the new injury.

 

It’s slow, but the swell of her ankle deflates until it looked almost normal. She’s grateful to have something else to pay attention to, her left pointer finger aching from twisting her ring to pass the time. As McCoy pulls away the machine, the purple and blue markings wrap around her ankle like a tattoo. Rubbing the back of her neck, Sam swings her legs over the edge of the biobed, her skirt inching up again. 

“Let’s see if you can put weight on it,” He walks back over to her bedside, extending a hand to her. Licking her lips, she takes his hand. With a squeeze of his hand, she slips off of the bed, her shoe hitting the ground before her one bare foot to take most of her weight. There’s a small pop of pain, but it fades the instant she steps fully onto it. Hovering in her personal bubble, McCoy voices his concern, “That feel okay?” 

“Yeah,” she nods up at him, wiggling the feeling back into her toes, “It hurt for a moment, but it feels just fine now. A little bit numb still.”

“Remember to take it easy on that leg and I’m always available if you have any trouble with it,” He clears his throat as he steps away.

“Right,” She laughs softly, “Am I allowed to put my boot back on?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” He picks up her boot and hands it over to her. Their hands brush for the briefest of moments, Leonard trying to tell himself that his heart didn’t jump when it happens. A small ‘thank you’ passes through her lips as she ducks to slip back into her shoe, zipping it. It clasps at the top without a hitch, a sigh ghosting through her lips.

“Well, thanks again, Leonard,” The exchange of smiles and nods forces a laugh from Sam’s throat as she tries to not gimp her way out of Sickbay, the numbness making her stifle a laugh. Leonard watches the doors close before feeling pairs of eyes on his neck. As he turns, Chapel and Kirk perch on the opposite side of the room, curiosity and amusement burning on their faces.

“Nurse Chapel, I believe we need to start taking inventory for today,” Leonard snuffs, picking up his PADD and briskly heading for his office. Christine rolls her eyes, used to that excuse, but she just picks herself up and heads back to her station. “And Jim if you don’t need anything, I suggest that you move along back to the Bridge.”

“And miss this golden opportunity? Not a chance,” Jim crows, following his friend into his small office and letting the door shut behind him. “Bones, come on. I saw no ring on her ring finger, maybe you’ll be lucky this time?”

“Look, Jim… I’m fine,” Leonard grouses as he sinks into his chair, “I’m not looking for anything. I’m done with that. For good.”

“How can you now that?” Jim stresses.

“I have my reasons. Even though you couldn’t last the rest of your life without them, I’ve had to deal with relationships enough to last me a thousand lifetimes,” Leonard tugs a hand through his hair. Before Jim can open his mouth to argue more, Leonard raises his hand to stop him, “Enough, Jim. We both have more important things to be doing at this point.”

“Bones,” Jim starts to argue, but one glare out of the corner of McCoy’s eye cuts him short. Throwing his hands up, “All right. Fine. I’ll stop trying to help… Drinks later?”

“Yeah, yeah,” McCoy huffs, knowing he’d need it later. “Get out of my office, I have files to work on.”

“Right,” Jim nods and takes his leave. Before he can get to the Sickbay doors, Chapel catches up to him. 

“What was that all about? Did my eyes deceive me, or did I see McCoy flirting?” She asks, keeping her voice hushed. Heaving a sigh, Jim crosses his arms over his chest.

“No, but I wish,” He groans, “Bones is being all crotchety about it, swearing off relationships, the whole nine yards.”

“Well…” She taps her nails on her chin, “How’s about I try to talk to her about it? She seems nice?”

“Yeah,” He agrees, “They clicked so well, so… I think it’s worth a shot for us to try to play matchmaker, right?”

“Definitely,” She agrees, “See if Janice and Nyota want to join in?”

“Sure thing,” He chuckles. The instant he hears the door to McCoy’s office begin to open, Kirk bolts out into the hall. Frowning at Chapel, McCoy walks towards her.

“Have a nice chat?” He asks, handing her a PADD of files she was required to fill out.

“Yup,” She plucks it from his hands, and striding back to her station. 

——

Sam really did try to take it easy on her leg, propping it up in her bed and trying to lay down. Nothing good would come from pissing off the medical officer this quick into her service. Her thoughts drift to him for a moment before she shakes it away. Attraction is something to be saved for strangers on star bases and shore leave, not wasted on crew-mates, she reminds herself. 

An hour of sleep without any medication was actually pretty good, not something she particularly wanted to mess with in her fine-tuned week schedule. She could manage without insomnia medication. Hopefully. 

But, par for the course of her night, a battalion of arrows push her out of both her dream and her bed. Teeth clacking painfully as her chin slams into the ground, she gasps against the ground for a good 15 minutes. As she gets up, nervous energy bubbles in her throat, downing the glass of carbonated water she left out as she fell asleep. The slight burn and hideous taste isn’t enough to curve the paranoid energy that boils in the back of her head. The walls start to close in around her. She needs to move.

It takes her about an hour of walking around the ship to find the gym in the rec-hall, water bottle already half drained. In the middle of beta shift, there’s no one else in the exercise recreation facilities, which was just perfect for her. After a short round of stretches, she starts a slow jog around the oval. As she runs, her ponytail bounces against her shoulders in a steady rhythm. Sweat begins to bead on her brow as she lets herself loose track of how many passes around the circle she makes and how long she runs for.

—

As Christine walks into the room, a frown settles in her brow. Waiting for Sam to turn back towards her on the circle, the nurse asks, “Aren’t you supposed to be taking it easy on that leg?”

“Uh, yeah…? I am going easy on it,” She wipes sweat from her brow. Obviously the blonde wasn’t impressed, based on that frown. “At least in comparison to how I usually run.”

Nurse Chapel sets down a small bag on a bench, pulling the longer parts of her bob into a small ponytail, a dark woman following close behind and scanning Sam with piercing eyes. Too reminiscent of another woman she’d known, Sam has to look away, moving to stretch her arms above her head. Janice strides in a couple of moments later, her usually coiffed hair pulled straight back into a messy bun, apologizing for being late.

“You still shouldn’t be running on that ankle,” Christine sighs. Sam shrugs and moves to down half of her water bottle.

“Well it was either work off some nerves or sit in bed wall-watching for the rest of the night.” She shrugs,” It’s nice to see you again Yeoman.” 

“Get yourself hurt already?” Janice jokes, tightening the laces on her shoes.

“Logs on the ground tend to have it out for me, okay?” She smirks, extending a hand to their friend with the sharp eyes, “Hi, I’m Sam Hatfield. I’m pretty sure I saw you in passing up on the bridge.” 

“Nyota Uhura,” She gives her hand a firm shake, “And yes, I work the communications station. I couldn’t help but over hear, but if you ever want someone to speak Vulcan with, I’m always free.”

Sam smirks, “That would be great. I’m almost convinced I made an idiot of myself in front of the Commander when I spoke it.”

“It was an antiquated phrase, but your pronunciation was excellent,” Uhura assures her, toying with her amulet. “And he’s always more than happy to converse too.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” She twists the ring on her finger, the familiar shine of the gem catching Uhura’s eye instantly, “Most of what I know is old phrases, T’Lyra was quite the antiquated soul.”

“Is everything okay, by the way?” Janice asks, bending her knee a couple of times.

“Do you mean why I’m down here or why Christine was scolding me?” Sam groans as she takes a seat, stretching out her legs. She got there around 1300, the clock on the wall now reads 1630. That’s pretty good stamina for the couple of times she stopped, but her legs feel like jello. 

“Why not both?” Uhura asks, tightening her hair in it’s ponytail.

“I broke my ankle on an away mission this morning,” Sam sighs, “Dr. McCoy fixed it right up, hasn’t hurt all day. I just had some trouble sleeping when I got to my room to rest, which isn’t unusual.” 

“How many nights would you say that happens?” Christine furrows her brow, knowing McCoy said to be on the look out for anything she didn’t tell the Sickbay staff.

“Eh, once and a while. It sort of comes and goes.” A bull faced lie, but she managed. Bless the existence of coffee.

“If it ever gets worse than that, I’d check in with McCoy about it,” Christine fusses, giving her a kind smile.

“Definitely,” She nods, lifting her foot onto the bench. Rubbing over the thick bruise, she takes a breath as it aches. “I think I bit off more than I could chew here. Doesn’t hurt any, but I think I’m calling it for tonight.” 

“Right,” Janice nods, getting up from another stretch, “I hope it heals quickly for you!”

“We’ll see you around, right?” Uhura asks, smile sharp and carving through her. 

“Yeah,” Sam nods, shuffling her empty water bottle between her hands. Her soft drawl slips through as she turns for the door, “Alrighty. Have a good night, y’all.”

As Sam gimps her way out of the rec-room, leaving behind the echo of humming a song, the three women turn turn to look at one another.

“Good god,” Uhura snorts, “You said that Kirk is thinking of trying to match her up with McCoy?”

“I think it’d be a good fit,” Christine reasons, “In Sickbay, they seemed to click. He didn’t raise his voice at all, and if that doesn’t count for anything, I’ll eat a whole Regulan bloodworm.”

“Well, if it doesn’t work out, I wish you a lot of luck on your shifts, Chris,” Uhura laughs, “A McCoy scorned is not something I’d wish on anyone.”

“I’ll take all the luck I can get,” the blonde sighs, “It could all work out for the better, someday, I hope.”


	3. September

Once the rotation of away mission eligibility passes her, Sam’s service on the Enterprise settles into an odd normal. It took her about a week to set into a stable sprint without her muscle pulling awkwardly, long walks patrolling the ship definitely helping. That or it’s just the pain fading below the struggle to stay awake between points of insomnia and forced unconsciousness. Any time spent in the main hub is taken getting to know her fellow crewmen, learning that Lisa Kutner should not be trusted alone with your coffee because she will steal sips and Drew Pliesto’s puns should be shut down at all costs. This was probably the best she’d been about remembering names en masse in years. 

The next time her name comes up in the rotation, the away mission passes rather smoothly, a semi-frozen planet with no macro-organisms to be accounted for. Unbelievably for their track record, the worst injury was a cut on Captain Kirk’s palm where he slipped and caught himself on a rock. One day begins to bleed into the next, the same clothes, the same paths, the same foods. There’s only one thing the replicator managed to not mess up, and she couldn’t be more sick of grilled chicken and pasta salad. She’s pretty sure she’s more coffee and pasta salad than human by this point.

Rubbing the crust of fatigue from her eyes, Sam dropped her head against the cool table top below her. Her PADD shuts itself off in her periphery, letting herself shut her eyes. Angela Dewitt tsk’s at her from across the table, nails clicking against the table in the main surveillance hub. Lifting her head, mouth open and ready to start something, she’s stopped by the soft echoing ping going from one piece of technology to the next in the room. A short message pops up at the top of their screens.

‘ _Attention Enterprise crew. We are approaching a Federation star base that has been willing to allow us time on-planet to take a voluntary Shore-leave. Shore-leaves will begin at 2000 this evening. Expect to be called back to the ship at any time, but we are not scheduled to leave again until Sunday morning at 0900. Have a good leave! - Capt. Jim Kirk.’_

“Huh…” She frowns down at the message. A quiet hum of agreement passes from Angela, but nothing else, the woman focused on watching the security cameras. Holding up in her quarters like every other night sounded like a blessing. A boring blessing, but it could also be nice to hit the rec rooms without running into many other people. But there’s also the usual promise of a bar. And the liquid gold that comes with it.

Since her first night aboard the ship, she’s been good about not touching her booze. It serves as an emergency supply, she mentally reinforces, only for when she needs to force some sleep into her day. Or when her self control waned. Her tendencies were bad before she joined Starfleet, and she wants to make sure she stays on this track. It was hard enough getting two bottles of Southern Comfort out here, let alone her Bushmill Whiskey and her moonshine. She’d sooner make her own bathtub swill before she touches that.

As alpha shift draws to a close, Angela and Sam transfer over the surveillance room to another pair with short words. Huffing, she sluggishly makes her way back to her quarters, mouth dry and fingers twitching at her sides.

“Hey, Sam!” Janice calls as she strides down the hall, managing to catch up to the shorter woman in a couple of steps. Already in her civvies, a dress decorated all over with sequins catching the lights, Sam is jealous she’s not out of her own uniform, “Are you going to be taking leave?”

“I don’t quite know yet,” She shrugs, “Why?”

“Some of us are going to be going to a bar tonight, I was wondering if you’d like to come with?” Janice asks. McCoy was already secured on the list, simply by the fact Jim would drag him out kicking and screaming if it came down to it.

“I dunno,” She shifts on the balls of her feet, “I’m not exactly the kinda drunk that should be allowed in public?”

“What?” She laughs, head tilting in confusion. “What type of drunk?”

“Oh, yah know… the sappy kind?” No, the addictive kind, but that’s not the best facet to put forward at any point. 

“Pft, I think we can handle you,” Janice tries to put on the most convincing smile she has. Sam shrugs her shoulders. “You don’t have to drink if you don’t want, you know.”

“We’ll see about it,” But she does want to, that’s the problem. Swearing it off before joining Starfleet went about as well as her swearing to diets in high school; it didn’t. It had already failed, but at least she has the sense to ration it. In a bar, the sky would be the limit– or just her bank account.

“All right. Shoot me a message if you change your mind and we can meet up?” Janice nods and continues her way down the hall. 

As the door to her own quarters whooshes closed behind her, Sam leans back against it. She can already feel that calming buzz in her lips after a couple glasses of whiskey, the sway in the air and the blur of everything else. Huffing her way back to her tiny dresser, she pulls out what little civvies she has with her and throws them across her bed. She drags herself into the ‘fresher before bothering to pick up the civvies again– she might as well feel good before going out and getting wrecked. Hungover her would appreciate that.

 

By the clock hitting 2100, Sam is finally leaving her quarters. She’s a little ashamed it took her that long to reconfigure her makeup skills, but she has to say she’s proud for not touching it in god knows how long. Then again she spent half the time listening to music and getting caught up on that so, it wasn’t all time spent on getting ready. 

Shoving her hands in the pockets of her studded leather jacket, Sam wanders the area. Some faces are more or less familiar, passing glances recognizable but no names. She follows the clusters of people diving into a cavernous bar, speakers blaring and lights flashing.

It takes her a couple minutes to worm her way through the throngs of people to get to the bar, with only one jagweed making the mistake of grabbing her ass. He luckily backs down when she nearly tears his shirt in her fist before he leaves her to swim alone through the sea of people to the bar. The moment she gets a bartender’s attention, she asks for whiskey on the rocks. Grabbing a stool at the bar, she clutches the cold glass for a while. Her heart beating out of her chest, she contemplates not drinking it. She worked hard to quit, right? Liquid gold is left for emergencies. Licking her lips, a voice in the back of her mind nips at her. She went though the trouble of ordering it, she oughtn’t let it go to waste. The glass is down to ice in one swig. 

Flagging for a top off, Sam’s eyes water and her throat rasps, but oh, that tingle has is already starting. From her lips to the tips of her toes, it washes over her like a tsunami. The next glass she means to take slower, but as she tips her head back, it all disappears. Tugging a hand through her shoulder length hair, which she finally freed from it’s hair tie-prison, a sigh of relief passes her numbed lips. Nothing really blurs for her until she’s on her fifth glass and the bartender just leaves the bottle with her.

 

Jim wipes sweat from his brow as they step off the dance floor, Uhura and Janice close behind him, at least as far as he last knew. Pushing his way past another couple of people, he sighs as the crowd finally spits him out at the bar. Janice runs right into him as she peels herself away from the people. Meeting up at an empty space in the bar, Jim ordered himself a margarita, neat. Licking some salt from the rim, his eyes wander around the bar before his eyes spot a cute brunette a little ways down the bar. When she flicks her hair over her shoulder and looks around, he can’t stop the widening grin.

“Hey, isn’t that Lieutenant Hatfield?” Jim taps Uhura’s shoulder. Looking up from her cranberry juice and vodka, Uhura peers around Kirk’s shoulder.

“I think it is?” She takes another sip, “Janice, didn’t you invite her out tonight?”

“Yeah, but I never got a response,” The blonde woman picks up her blackberry mojito, “Should we go over to her?” 

Jim purses his lips, watching Sam down another glass of amber liquid and reaching for the bottle again. Sam curses as she picks up the half empty bottle, pouring herself another and forcing herself to sip it this time. A grin takes to Jim’s face, looking back at their table where Leonard had hunkered down for the night, Scotty joining him for the time being. 

“I think I’ve got a plan,” He says over his shoulder to the women with him, striding down the bar. He has to yell over the music as he walks up to her, “Hey Sam!”

Sam nearly chokes on her mouthful of whiskey, a drop on her lips hanging there as she struggles to swallow the burning liquid down. So much for not ruining her lipstick.Turning on her seat to look at the Captain, she pats her lip against the side of her hand.

“Uh, hi?” Her stomach clenches when she sees Janice not too far behind him, immediately feeling guilty, “Having a good evening?”

“Yeah!” He nods, leaning against the bar, “Say, would you like to come join our table? You look kind of lonely over here.”

“Um,” she licks her lips, looking between the three. Though something in her mind nags that she shouldn’t, she shrugs, “Sure, why not? Y’all can help me polish this off.”

Bottle in one hand and glass in the other, she hops down from the stool, her heeled ankle boots clapping on the ground. She’s definitely glad now that the bartender just made her buy the whole bottle. Her head floats delightfully, her walk not staggering as bad as it should be after almost a half bottle of whiskey, especially in heels. 

Jim and Uhura smirk between each other, knowing they had to take this opportunity to push the two together. Leading the way through the outskirts of the dance floor, Sam only stumbles once as a guy pushes past her. A small feat, but Sam is beyond proud about it. The moment Jim steps up to the table, he claps his hand on Leonard’s shoulder.

“Bones, why don’t you scoot over some?” He walks around the booth to slip in next to Scotty on the opposite side. “Found someone at the bar.”

“Oh?” Leonard looks up, locking eyes with Sam as she takes a seat. His eyes rake over her for a moment, from the spiked leather jacket to her grey, cropped shirt. He freezes for a moment, the flashing lights of the club flattering every angle of her muscular physique peaking above her black high-waisted, short shorts. He manages to choke out, “How are you, Sam?” 

“Peachy keen,” She grins, scooting closer so Janice can take a seat with her, the bottle of whiskey setting on the table, “Yourself?”

“Not too bad,” He raises a brow at the half full bottle, “Is that all yours?”

“Eh, yeah,” She shrugs, talking over the rim of her glass, “It’s up for grabs if anyone wants some. It’s starting to get me.”

“Y’ev managed to finish that much on y’er own?” Scotty asks from across the table, Sam giving him a prideful smirk as she knocks back the last sip of her current glass. Leonard is more concerned than impressed, but definitely still hints of both. 

“Not bad for a work night, right?” She manages to keep her slur behind her teeth. 

“So, how are you settling in?” Jim asks.

“Fine,” She shrugs, toying with her locket, “I’ll be honest, it doesn’t feel that much different than being on the Republic. Friendlier company though.” She smirks, sipping her drink. “I’m pretty sure I pissed Commander Harlow off my first week there, took him a while to warm up to me.”

“God, how is that stiff bastard?” Kirk laughs, “I haven’t heard anything of him since I was back at the academy.”

“He’s still a gaping asshole,” Sam grins, and Leonard can’t tear his eyes away. 

Conversation settles in, Sam going back and forth between nursing her drink and giving her two cents to the conversation. When she gets drunker, she doesn’t dare share more than reactions– her stories tend to get blurred when she gets drunk, and telling the wrong one would be a one way ticket to Mistakes-ville. But that leaves her open to watching Leonard talk, and letting her watch that fiery look in his eyes with wrapt attention. And Jim couldn’t have a wider shit-faced grin on his face. Leonard knows exactly what kind of game Jim was playing at, that sly look as he looks between himself and Sam just too obvious. A kick to Jim’s shin stops him, who shouts, “Hey! What was that for!”

“What was what for?” Leonard denies, sipping his bourbon with smirking eyes. 

Laughter bubbles up in Sam’s chest, definitely coming to her easier now that she could say she’s actually drunk. It stabs into Leonard’s chest and wedges through his ribcage, taking to sipping his own drink to try to calm his heart. That really didn’t help Jim’s smug grin.

“Do you have any interesting stories, Sam?” Jim asks, setting down his empty margarita glass as the laughter settles from Scotty’s last anecdote. 

“Oh God, no. I’m too drunk to tell any of ‘em straight,” She sighs waving off the idea with a loose hand. There definitely isn’t disappointment on Leonard’s face. The club roars as another song comes on, Jim jumping up from his seat and pulling Uhura along with him. The table empties of it’s inhabitants, save for Leonard and herself. 

“Could it get any louder in here?” Wincing as the music starts getting to her head, Sam pushes her hair back out of her face. She usually loved loud music, but this was all beat, no melody. Stretching, she shrugs on her leather jacket, Leonard eyeing her abs as her shirt floats up a little higher. 

“You going to be headed back to the ship?” Leonard shakes his head to knock himself out of the moment, especially as she gets out of the other side of the stand-alone booth. He quickly gets up, stepping around to her side. 

“Yeah, most likely,” Sam nods. She doesn’t take more than a step before she sways, pitching right into Leonard’s side. 

“Whoa there,” He manages to catch her before she goes down, “Y’okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” She laughs, waving her hand, “I think I jus’ had a lil’ too much.”

“That might be the exaggeration of the century, darlin,” He smiles.

“You guys headed out?” Jim asks as he strides back to the table, another margarita in hand.

“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t be around more alcohol at this point. I’ll get more drunk jus’ by looking at it,” Sam slurs, all but hanging onto Leonard for support as the world spins without her. She doesn’t see it, but Leonard wants to smack that smug grin off Jim’s face.

“Right. Are you going to make sure she gets back okay?” Jim’s eyes twinkle with feigned innocence. 

“Yeah,” He nods, settling an arm around her waist to keep her from swaying again and ignoring the tingling in his skin.

“All right, then. Have a good night you two,” Jim winks as he turns back to the dance floor, Leonard opening his mouth to argue. Scotty slips off after him, planning to join the mirth now that he’s free to. 

“Same t’you!” Sam bubbles, leaning back into Leonard’s arm. “Shall we?” 

“Uh, yeah, of course,” He gulps, leading her back out of the club. She clutches onto him as her feet wobble beneath her, head resting on his bicep as they go. 

“I’m not takin’ you away from anythin, am I?” Sam asks, eyes sparkling as she looks up at Leonard.

“Not at all,” He smiles. His arm hangs loose around her waist to keep her upright, and feels so natural there, “I was planning on leaving anyway. This is definitely better than that bar.”

“It’s nice to finally catch a good breath o’ fresh air,” Sam nods, more just rubbing her head against his arm. 

The arm around her sparks something in her chest, a warm bubbling that fizzes out through her ribs like the numb tingle in her lips. It’s made worse by the skin contact of his warm hand, so much worse. They walk– Leonard walks, Sam stumbles– back to the ship in silence, some light laughs and apologies passing between them whenever she staggers. As they step into a turbolift, Sam squints and misses the button the first time. The second time she manages, beating Leonard to the punch. Closing her eyes, the world spins a little too fast for her as the turbolift carries them up through the ship.

“You all right, darlin’?” Leonard asks, ducking closer to her level. 

“Yeah, yeah, don’ worry,” She nods against his arm, “I ain’t gonna puke on ya, if that’s what yer’ wonderin’.”

“Okay,” He smirks, the drawl slipping through making his chest tingle.

In the bright lights of the hall, he sees the ghostly hints of scars across her hip, peaking out from the hem of her shirt and the waistline of her pants. Sam curses, stamping her foot, “I’m usually better at drunk walking in these shoes…This one’s mine,” She points to her door, licking her lips, “Thanks for walkin’ me back.”

“Not a problem,” He smiles, shoving his hands in his pockets as Sam leaves his arms to balance against the wall, “You got your code?”

“I uh… hope so.” She bites the inside of her cheek, tapping in a her code. With a beep, her door slides open, “Fan-fuckin-tastic! Thanks, Leonard.”

“Yeah, of course!” He rocks back on his heels, “Be sure to get some water before you go to sleep, alright?”

“I’ll be sure to,” She reaches up and grabs a hold of the collar of his denim button up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Her heart beats against her ribcage as she steps back into her small entrance hall. “G’night, Leonard. And thanks again.”

Leonard freezes, watching her walk back with dumbfounded eyes, “G’night, Sam.” He watches the door slide shut between them, his chest aching as he watches her door for another couple of moments in silence. 

“Well, fuck,” He sighs to himself, rubbing his face with his hand and setting off to his own quarters. With a deep breath, he wedges his heart back into place, trying to nip the feeling in the bud before it bloomed. As he enters his own quarters down the hall, he begins to realize it’s too late for that. Especially when he looks at the mirror and sees the giant kiss mark on his cheek in dark-red lipstick and something in his chest melts. 

——

Waking up is not a pleasant experience for Sam, peeling herself off the bed to bolt to the ‘fresher. Whiskey tasted the worst coming back up, but she couldn’t drink anything else. Wanting to have semblances of brain matter after binges meant that tequila was out of the question, and Sam would sooner down actual rubbing alcohol than drink straight vodka again. She couldn’t help but be surprised with herself; she hadn’t finished off the bottle, at least not that she recalled. Definitely out of practice for herself. 

Shoving herself into a quick shower, she strips herself out of layers of sweat and bile, gargling water repeatedly. The remnants of her makeup crumbles away, cursing her damn compulsion to doll up yesterday. With the lights below 20%, she feels her way around for soap; she doesn’t wanna give her already roaring headache the kindling to turn worse. 

Tapping her way across the base of her neck, she finds the broad metal panel above her shoulder blades, steadying her like an anchor. A button at the very top clicks in for a moment, ticking once or twice before a chill races through her body. A cooling relief pools in her head and her stomach that forces her to lean against the steamy tiles. The button pops back into place, Sam shutting the water off and shuffling back into her room. 

The PADD on her tiny table flashes the time: 1243. Getting shit faced was always her cure for insomnia, and God was it refreshing. Sam pulled herself onto her bed, curling on top of the covers with her files, continuing to type up paperwork on acquisitions for her department. At the top of her screen, an unread message waits for her. ‘Unread- Dr. Leonard McCoy. 1 day ago.’ A frown tugs at her lips.

“One day?” She taps open the slate, the message opening automatically.

‘ _Hey Sam, Figured I’d ask how you’re feeling this morning. If you need anything, just ask, all right?_ ’

Pursing her lips, she clicks into the calendar. Realization hits as the slate highlights Saturday; she slept through an entire damn day. There was her catch-up sleep for the next month. 

“I need go back to drinking,” She sighs, regretting ever swearing it off in the first place. The other side of her brain tells her to go back to being sober, probably best to keep herself level out here. Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she types out a reply.

‘ _Heya Leonard. Sorry I didn’t respond yesterday. That hangover had me out of commission until this morning, but I should be fine. Thanks for the offer!_ ’ It sits on the PADD for a moment, reading over it a couple of times to make sure it wasn’t pushy or anything. It’s just a message between colleagues and friends, she huffs at herself as she hits ‘send’. There definitely shouldn’t be this much anxiety over a small exchange between colleagues. 

She realizes how much of her night is static as she watches the message send off into the void of technology. Lips curling in distaste, she hopes she didn’t make an idiot of herself. Never being the kind to hesitate in sending double messages, she quickly sends off another one.

‘ _Also, I’m sorry I kinda went overboard on the drinking last night, or if I crossed any lines or anything. Just been a while, I think I missed the alcohol._ ’

 

Leonard jumps when he hears the notification of his PADD across the room, Jim and Spock looking up from their game of chess.

“Sorry,” He excuses himself to grab it, settling back down on Jim’s couch with it in his lap. The instant he sees ‘2 unread messages - L.C. Sam Hatfield’, he buttons his lips.

“What is it?” Jim asks, moving another piece after a good 5 minutes of sitting on that move. 

“Nothing important,” He taps out a response.

‘ _Of course. And no worries, it’s understandable._ ’ He purses his lips, thinking of what else to say, ‘ _You know, if it’s any help, Scotty and I have a small store of booze for emergencies. If you ever need to blow off some steam, I’d be happy to share it with you._ ’

It didn’t sound like he was asking her on a date, and it didn’t seem like he was being intrusive. His lips curl more as he contemplates deleting it, not noticing Jim leering over the back of the couch.

“Nothing important, huh?” Jim sniggers, waggling his brows, “So, you and Sam hit it off the other night, huh? Anything fun happen after I left?”

“Hey!” Leonard shouts, turning away his slate so Jim couldn’t read it, “No, I was just checking that she was okay. She did down more than her weight in whiskey.”

“I do hope that is another one of your metaphors, Doctor,” Spock blinks slowly as he moves his own piece on the board. “It is improbable that any human could survive that occurrence.”

“I might see if I can,” Leonard grouses, “Dying would get me away from the both of you. Hell would be tons less trouble than this whole mess anyways.”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that,” Kirk punches his shoulder as he sits back down to the chess board, “Admit it, she’d be good for you. She held her whiskey, didn’t she?”

“That’s not the criteria for a good relationship, Jim,” The ping of the PADD pulls him away, voice trailing off as he reads her response. “That would likely prove to be problematic…”

‘ _To be honest, that sounds heavenly. Should I warn you if that ever comes up?_ ’

‘ _That would be nice. Better to not drink during shift and all. What’s your poison? I know I prefer my favorite on my rough days._ ’ He sends it off, eyes flicking to Jim to make sure he didn’t loom over his shoulder again. 

 

Sam reads over his message, her cheeks aching from how wide her smile reaches. It’s been a while since any conversation went this easily. ‘ _Whiskey usually. I wouldn’t turn my nose up at a lot of things, except flavored vodka. I can’t trust flavored vodka._ ’

Sipping on her glass of water, she settles back with another file in the meantime. 

 

A chuckle holds back in Leonard’s throat, ‘ _Oh? Care to share the story behind that?_ ’

 

The quick response surprises her, but she’s happy enough to respond, ‘ _Well, after I got accepted to Starfleet, the people I worked with threw me a going away party at their apartment. They had an appalling selection of alcohol. And appalling is putting it nicely– one of them liked drinking Irish cream straight from the bottle. But the only thing I could drink in their pantry was this birthday cake vodka. There were 2 bottles at the start of the day, they weren’t there by the end. Never again._ ’

 

Leonard’s soft laugh pulls a smirk to Jim’s face, “Something funny over there, Bones?”

The smile falters from McCoy’s face as he looks up from the PADD, “No? Why?”

“You just seem to be enjoying yourself over there,” He shrugs, picking away another of Spock’s pieces. 

“Don’t be so smug, you jackass,” He gripes, turning back to his more silent conversation. ‘ _Ouch. Same thing happened for me with tequila in undergrad. I can assure you, I’ll keep the vodka as far away as I can._ ’

 

‘ _Thanks Leonard :)_ ’ Sam thinks that the smile is a bit overboard, but she can’t help it. Without it, it just doesn’t feel sincere. ‘ _If there’s anything I can do to repay you for that offer, just let me know, okay?’_

 

_‘Sure thing. I’ll keep that in mind.’_ He has no idea why that colon-parentheses warms his heart– when Jim does it, it makes him angry– but not with her. Maybe that smile sticks in his brain and… Leonard immediately wants to smack himself. Setting aside the PADD, he tries to go back to watching his friends play chess.

 

Sam sits back, watching the stagnant screen for a good couple of minutes. A sigh passes her lips, trying to tell herself that she wasn’t excited for the day she needed that booze. At least she wouldn’t have to waste out her own too.


	4. October - Part 1

Sam almost cries tears of joy when a high clearance ambassador was scheduled for transportation on the Enterprise, let alone the itch under her skin from the full month of sobriety. A month’s worth of dry away missions left her itching for something more and a Belissian ambassador to Druma IV was just looking for trouble. Two planets, each rivaling the other for their urge to kill each other but willing to let the Federation broker their truce as a neutral party. Her hands clasp tighter behind her, Kirk looking a little more manic each second as he paces.

“Sir, I’m sure 4 officers on the away team is enough,” She assures him, Jim stuttering on his feet.

He doesn’t even bother with telling her to just call him Jim or Kirk anymore, tugging his hand through his hair, “Do you have anyone in mind for working together?”

“I already have a team formed,” She clasps her hands tighter behind her, “Do you wish for me to accompany the away team as a part of it or just as extra security.”

“The more security the better. But remember, phasers are an absolute last resort.” He sighs. He already had a couple of warnings from Starfleet Command that this truce signing was of the utmost importance. His communicator clicks, the Shuttle bay alerting him of the landing of the Belissian’s, just Ambassador Ny'Dera Krulik and two others. Striding out of the Ready Room, the pair head down to meet them. Her security team is already present, Hendorff meeting her gaze before snapping back into his attentive watch. Belissians look more or less human, the only differences being their light-red, almost sunburnt colored skin and their sleek and elongated features. Their eyes throw it off too, white sclera surrounding large compound irises that fleck holographically in the light. The ambassador bows her head to Kirk, who returns it with a bow of his own, “Madam Ambassador, welcome aboard the USS Enterprise.”

“Thank you, Captain,” She says, her voice like a bell. Small laughter chimes out of the shuttle, a small child walking out alongside a patient-looking adult. Sam definitely hadn’t been expecting that. “I thank you and your crew for being so accommodating of us and our tradition.”

“Of course,” Jim says, “It’s our pleasure, really. I would also like you to meet our Chief of Security, Lieutenant Commander Samantha Hatfield. She will be ensuring your safety ship-side and planet-side.”

As the Ambassador bows her head, Sam does too, not moving to add anything else.

“But for now, I could give you all a tour of the ship, if you would like?” Kirk suggests.

“That would be most appreciated,” Ny'Dera hums, her coat-tails floating behind her as she walks. The attendant and the child follow along quickly, Sam falling in line behind them. As they step into the turbolift, the child’s wide eyes catch hers, his compound irises shifting as they scan her. If he were human, Sam would call him about 10 or 11.

“Ny’docit, it is rude in human culture to stare,” Ny'Dera scolds, his eyes snapping forward.

“I apologize for my rudeness, madam.” He barks, arms steeling at his sides.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam smiles down at him, “I don’t mind.”

Ny’docit’s eyes hesitate to look back up but he does, Sam letting him move out of the turbolift ahead of her. Sam keeps herself quiet as she follows the Captain and the Belissian’s across the ship, Sam not catching any details of their conversation. She feels sorry for the kid though, the bored look slowly climbing onto his face.

—

Leonard is much happier to be boarding a shuttle than going to the transporter room, though only marginally so. Shuttles had made him less shaky following the whole Swarm incident, but it didn’t get rid of all the hypotheticals in his mind. As he takes his seat, Sam smirks at him, “It alright if I take this seat?”

“Go right ahead,” He says. “How’s the ankle treating you?”

“Just fine,” Sam sighs gratefully as she finally gets to take a seat after walking the ship all the way to the bridge and back down to the shuttle bay, “Took me about a week to get up to a good sprint or to do a hurdle, but that was more or less what I expected. 

Leonard frowns at her, “You should have still been taking it easy.”

“I’m a liability to my team if I can’t move,” Sam says, shrugging, “I’ll be fine, don’t you worry ‘bout me, Doc.” 

“I will,” He smirks back at her. 

Sulu announces their departure from the pilots seat seconds before the shuttle shakes and backs out of the Enterprise’s dock. It knocks the smirk from Leonard’s face a couple notches, hand scrabbling to grab the armrest, his clasping right over hers. She jumps slightly, looking down at the warm hand covering hers. The tips of his ears heat as he removes his hand, Sam moving hers back into her lap.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” He clears his throat. Sam laughs lightly, McCoy definitely preferring it over her pained laugh.

“No worries,” She says, crossing her arms over her chest, “The arm rest is yours. Not a fan of flying?”

He grits his teeth as the ship jerks a little, he grabs at the arm rest, “Less than I used to be, but yes.”

The space outside begins to fade away outside the window, the lush planet below them swelling. Sam leans to look out at the Earth-like planet below, Leonard pressing himself back into his seat. 

“Just warning you guys, their flight path is going to be a bit shaky, the turbulence may get a little heavy.” Sulu calls back again. 

At the first strong jerk, all the color in Leonard’s face drains. Sam purses her lips, hesitating before offering her hand to him. He doesn’t even say anything as he takes it, clutching onto it hard enough to crack her knuckles. She grits her teeth, the pain passing quickly and curling her numbing fingers around his. She curses as a rough jerk knocks her into his side, the grip on her hand tightening. Adrenaline spikes in her blood, eyes darting around the cabin. The Belissians look more or less nonplussed, the Captain beside them terse-lipped and clutching onto his arm rest. Spock’s façade is almost perfect, but when the Vulcan looks up, she catches him off-guard. She sees the slightest flicker of fear, and looks away. It’s almost comforting- a face without any semblance of emotion is discomforting. When the ship finally breaks through to calmer air, they breath a collective sigh of relief. Leonard peels his hand off of Sam’s, she winces as the blood is suddenly able to rush back into her fingers. 

“Sorry,” Leonard purses his lips, “Your hand okay?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” She says, “It’s survived worse, trust me.”

“Okay,” He sighs, still worried.

—

Once the ship lands, it takes Leonard about 5 minutes to peel himself up from his chair, following Sam out. A forest of dark green, almost black sways in the wind around them. The nose of the ship points out over the sheer cliffs behind them. A dirt path cuts through the forest ahead of them, lined with spires and obelisks as it curls away into the sloping foliage. 

“The Drumat Procession of Peace requires us to walk this path to their capitol,” Ny'Dera huffs, reading from a slate she pulls from her pocket. McAllister and Dawson take their assigned posts on either side of the ambassador. Leland sticks closer to her son and his attendant, Andrews hesitating to assume his position guarding the Captain and First Officer; it never seemed to be a position people were willing to take. 

“Are we on a schedule for this procession, ma’am?” Sam asks.

“It would be best to be there within the next day or so,” Ny'Dera replies, already marching towards the path, “I have other things I need to be doing. Other than following their silly ritual.”

Kirk makes a face behind the ambassadors back, but is quick to follow her lead. Sam keeps her pace with him and Spock, shoulder to shoulder with McCoy. Or at least on the x-axis of reality– she’s too short to be exact. She curses her shorter stature in her head. She could’ve made herself taller, but nooo-

“Sam?” Leonard tries again, waving his hand before her face.

“Huh?” She blinks herself back down to Druma IV. “You need something?”

“Making sure you’re okay, you looked mad at something,” He smirks at her.

“Don’t worry about it,” She smirks right back, “I’ll be fine, just reminiscing about something.”

“Care to share?” Leonard asks. The group is a little spaced out, the ambassador trying to race away down the gravel trail, Spock and Jim having to jog to keep up, Dickens a pace or two behind. The child and his attendant straggle a little behind them, her associates watching the back of the line. 

Sam purses her lips, knowing she couldn’t share her actual thoughts, “Just enjoying this, I guess. The last Escorting mission I went on was on Dibul-Theta in the middle of a sand storm. This is far more enjoyable than coughing up quartzite for two weeks. Definitely one of my worst.”

“I can imagine,” He chuckles, though his smile twitches a little. “I couldn’t pick a worst away mission… you’ve probably heard of it anyways.”

“That’s uh… I hope this doesn’t offend, but that’s why I applied when Starfleet sent out the notification for this position,” Sam says, “I’ve always been pretty lucky for someone in my position.”

“No offense taken,” Leonard replies, Sam sighing in relief, “What’s your secret? If you’re willing to share.”

“Death and I are well acquainted,” She jokes, but the panel in her back aches for a moment, “He didn’t even change our deal when I upped the stakes. That rat bastard.”

It gets a laugh, Leonard’s eyes crinkling at the corners. “If you can get him in contact with Jim, he could use it. He’s gonna just keel over someday, and I’m not gonna be able to fix him again.”

“He’s pretty hard to get a hold of, but I could give it a try,” Sam assures him, “He’s… quite the Captain, I’ll give him that. Unorthodox.”

“That’s how he is,” Bones huffs, leaping up a sudden step. The path ahead gets steeper, steps raising up taller than Sam further ahead. At least it slowed down the Ambassador. “It’s a pain.”

“At least he’s not the stickler for details,” Sam says, “Captain Prell wanted everything in it’s place. Even our shore leaves had timed itineraries. Kirk is definitely a breath of fresh air-“

“Are my ears burning?” Kirk asks from the next step up, about half Sam’s height. The next takes an abrupt leap, the ambassador struggling to pull herself over the ledge despite Andrews’ and Kirk’s help pushing her up. 

“Just comparing experiences,” Sam grunts, easily lifting herself over the next step. Leonard struggles for a second, cursing the moment of difficulty and ignoring Sam’s extended hand. She takes no offense, figuring it was a hit to his pride. Ny’docit stares up at the stair, the smaller one already most of his height. Crouching down on the edge, Sam extends both of her hands to him.

“Grab on, kiddo,” She offers. 

He hesitates, but grabs around her wrists. He’s light for his size, Sam hefting him up pretty easily. Kirk boosts Spock and Leonard up the next step, the other security officers leaving behind her and Ny’docit. Pursing her lips up at them, she sighs, stooping down to her knees at the base of the step, “Do you trust me?”

“Um… I guess?” Ny’docit frowns at her.

“Try to grasp on the wall and stand on my shoulders,” She orders, “I’ll boost you up a little higher.”

“That’s not going to hurt you, is it?” He asks. Leonard looks down at them with concern.

“Don’t hurt yourself down there,” He calls down, but she waves him off.

“I’ve boosted up guys twice my size. You’ll be a breeze in comparison,” She says. 

Ny’docit hesitates again, but steps up anyways. His boots dig into her collar bones, taking slow breaths to control her balance. Once his hands are clasping at the wall, she raises herself up from her knees, lifting him well within the reach of the next step. She shakes for a moment, the other security officers pulling him over the step and leaving her alone. The moment she’s alone on the step and he’s over the edge, she jumps. 

Her fingers latch over the edge, slipping before catching in a small ridge. Feet flailing beneath her, she splits her legs to support herself on the cutouts in the rock side. She rests her hands for a moment, supporting herself on her legs before beginning upwards. 

Shuffling her way up, she pulls herself over the edge. This time it’s her turn to ignore the extended hand from Leonard. She sighs in relief when the rest of the steps decide to stop being extra-as-fuck, carved into the rock side like a normal person would have. Rolling her head, her neck and back crack loudly as she moves back into the informal formation. 

“Man, I miss free climbing,” Sam mutters to herself, stretching her fingers.

“What’s that?” Ny’docit asks, bounding to meet her pace.

“Free climbing is an Earth activity where you climb mountains with little to no gear,” She explains, “I used to do it just about every weekend.”

“No kidding you’ve got a good deal with Death,” Leonard grumbles at her.

She grins, all white straight teeth and mischief– a look that McCoy is far too familiar with from a certain idiot Captain friend of his. “Had my fair share of near misses. There was this one time I hung a hammock cliffside and one of my pitons came loose–“

“Why am I surrounded by death-goading daredevils?” He groans.

“That’s just the type of person you attract, Bones,” Kirk winks back at him, Leonard groaning louder.

“Are all human activities this dangerous?” Ny’docit asks.

“Just the fun ones,” Sam jokes.

“There’s plenty of safe ones that are fun,” Leonard rebuts, “Rock climbing in _safe_ conditions is fun.”

“It has it’s moments,” She agrees, turning to the kid, “What sorts of activities do you do?”

“Well most of my time is my studies–” She listens to him ramble about his political studies, his language lessons, and various hunting adventures. Sam nods and puts her input or asks questions when he looks over to her. If she’s bored or annoyed by his constant talking, Leonard can’t see it in her face. In her eyes there’s almost a maternal look– he shakes away the thought.

—

The pathway stretches on for hours, Ny’docit having long fallen into amicable silence from exhaustion. Sam’s boots scuff the ground, cursing her boot-liners for suddenly wearing out. As the sun sinks down below the tree line, they reach a clearing surrounded by obelisks, and a single spire at the center. 

“The halfway point,” Ny'Dera sighs, shoulders sinking, “We will rest here for the night.”

“Kirk to Enterprise,” Jim flips out his communicator, “Please beam down the prepared supplies, we will be spending the night down here.”

“Right away sir,” The technician replies. There’s a high pitched whine as a large block materializes beside the main obelisk, stacks of canteens and sleeping bag rolls. She stops Andrewsand Leland as they come up, pointing them to guard the openings of the path, her other two sticking near the ambassador. 

They crack into the supplies, dehydrated food packs waiting to be boiled. Picking some dead sticks out of the foliage, Sam digs a small pit for a fire pit before setting it up. Leonard digs down into the box, growling as he hits the bottom, not finding the smaller box he’s looking for.

“Damn. The fire starter isn’t in here,” He huffs.

“No worries,” Sam hums, stuffing some dead ferns into the sticks, “We’ve got that cotton twine, right?”

“Yeah,” He tosses it her way. She doesn’t expect it, squeaking as it whacks against her shoulder. He winces, “My bad.”

“A lil’ warning would be much appreciated, Doc,” She drawls at him, taking the string. She tears the fibers apart, bounding them into a large ball of fluff. Before long, it’s about fist-sized, setting it aside. “Gimme about 15 minutes, I’ll have this going.”

“You’re not going to just use your phaser?” Leland asks, already reaching for his.

“Oh, c’mon,” She smirks, “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, phasers are an absolute last resort.”

Leland begrudgingly lowers his hand from his phaser, joining the others to hoist the tent for the Ambassador. Sam gathers a couple of thicker sticks from the wood edge, picking up a thinner piece of wood supplied in the emergency kit. She kneels in the dirt, picking up the slat of wood and holding it on her knee. Reaching down for her boot, she unzips it and pulls away the edge, slipping a black object from a pocket. She flips out the blade of her knife, Leonard raising a brow at her as he sets down the water container next to her.

“Woah there. Where’d you pull that from?” He asks. Sam zips her boot back up.

“Always gotta have a back up plan,” She keeps the answer vague. She snaps away a palm-sized section of the flat board, carving a small divot in it and setting it aside. The longer piece gets a matching divot before she whittles a stick’s bark away, making sure its surface is smooth. 

“Mind if I ask what you’re doing?” Leonard asks, opening the boxes of dehydrated food.

“Making a bow drill,” She sets the drill aside once she’s satisfied, tying string to the other and making sure it pulls taught. She wraps it twice around the drill, wedging it between the two flat pieces. The longer board creaks beneath her boot as she applies pressure, pulling the drill back and forth a couple of times. It slips once before it starts making progress, biting down into the longer board. She pauses to cut a notch in the lower board, but she continues on. Smoke starts pouring out beneath the spindle, Sam keeping it going for a couple of minutes. With quick hands she picks up the heath board and the pile of cotton fluff, dumping the coal into it and wrapping it up tight. A couple of slow breaths into it, and a face full of smoke, and it bursts into flames, the brunette quickly stuffing it in the kindling.

“You seem to be quite the Renaissance woman, Sam,” Kirk admires as he takes a seat across the fire. 

“Nah, just an outdoors-woman,” She shrugs, tucking her knife back into her boot.

Leonard purses his lips as he starts rehydrating the food, watching the almost sad twinge in her eyes.

“You think you’d be able to teach how to do that?” He asks, “The less gear we have to bring down, the better.”

“Definitely,” She says, seeming to snap out of it,“Though I doubt the ship would be a proper place to do it. I was really surprised when there weren’t any survival basics in the Academy.” In Sam’s opinion, it might help the the mortality rate of stranded individuals.

“I take it you don’t draw the line at camping and hiking?” Jim asks, taking the bowl of food Leonard drops into his hand. 

“Given the fact she hung herself off the side of a mountain, I’m going to assume not,” Leonard sighs, passing along the food. The others start to wander over, Sam passing on bowls to them as they take their seats.The Belissians disappear into their tent, waving off the offer of human food in favor of their packed provisions.Jim raises his brow, expecting the story as he shovels hot food into his mouth.

“I hung a hammock on the side of Half Dome, one of the pitons slipped halfway through the night,” She says, only half lying. Wrong place, right situation. “Worth it though.”

Jim demands more stories, but Sam shakes her head, “Nah. I’d spend more time picking stories than telling them.” Luckily, he takes the fib, letting her duck her head and eat quietly. Darkness crowds around them, stopping at the flickering glow of the well-fed fire. Sam keeps her eyes scanning the perimeter, watch-dog mind refusing to shut down as the Ambassador and her son retreating into the tent. She’s the last person at the fire, still stoking it as the others roll out their air cushions and sleeping bags. Her skin crawls, just expecting something to shoot out of the woods–

“Hey, you going to bed?” McAllister asks. Sam jerks, looking up at her.

“Uh, I may stay up a little longer. Keep watch,” She clears her throat.

“Leland’s taking first watch, I’m taking second,” She shrugs, walking back into the dim clearing, “You can get some rest, ma’am.”

“Right,” She snorts softly, getting up from the fire pit. She picks up the only sleeping roll left, throwing it across a spot near the edge of the group. Leonard looks up from his adjacent spot, Sam not really paying attention. She huffs at the tightness of her collar, not giving a damn as she unzips her tunic, thankful she hadn’t picked her dress. In one swift movement she pulls it and the black layer over her head, leaving her in a regulation black tank top. Tearing his eyes away, he definitely doesn’t wish her tank top had been untucked or raised up with her other shirts. Squeezing his eyes shut, he scolds himself for suddenly stealing Jim’s brain. 

She slips into her sleeping bag after kicking off her boots, balling her black shirt into a pillow and the folding the other tunic at the foot of her bag. A nightly habit, she sits up and double checks all of her jewelry. Two rings, one gold and red the other silver and blue; and her gold necklace. She thumbs at the locket latch, but decides against it. Those green eyes wouldn’t let her get to sleep if she did. In their adjacent rolls, Leonard and Sam stare up at the starry sky, letting sleep find them.

—

Sleep found Leonard much easier than it did Sam. After the third or fourth rude awakening, from her own dreams and Leonard’s snoring, she tears out of her sleeping bag and relieves McAllister from her watch. As morning leeches over the horizon, she rouses the fire back to life, people poking their heads up one by one at the smell of food.

"Good morning, Ms. Hatfield," Spock greets as he takes a seat across from her, the first to be truly up about about. Jim yawns repeatedly from his roll, trying to find the will to step out into the dewy morning. 

"Good morning, Mr. Spock," She nods, stirring the bowl of rehydrated oats and handing it over to him. "I trust your night was good?"

"It was adequate," He sighs, settling into silence with her. They're both finished by the time the other officers are up, Leonard smoothing down his sleep-frazzled hair as he takes his seat.

"We don't have any damned coffee, do we." He groans, looking through the MRE packs. 

"Eh, you'll live," Sam shrugs, passing him a bowl. He grouses at her under his breath.

"How are you so cheery?" He asks.

"I've been up for a couple hours," She shrugs, "I took watch."

"Which was unnecessary, ma'am," McAllister assures her, "I would have been just fine finishing out my watch."

"I wasn't going to get any sleep anyways, one of us should be well rested," Sam shrugs again, stretching her back and neck with a series of pops. Still in her tank top, her scars fade in and out of focus on her skin. "Kept hearing stuff move, I was gettin' jumpy. Leonard's snoring wasn't helping."

"Isn't it awful?" Jim jokes, elbowing Leonard's side. He ducks his chin down, glowering at his friend.

"Shut it."

"Aw, it really wasn't that bad. Just gettin' your goat, hun,” Sam laughs, pulling herself to her feet and fetching her shirts from her sleeping roll, already deflated and mostly rolled up. Leonard watches her walk away, pointedly turning back to the fire. 

— 

"Welcome, Ambassador Krulik. Captain Kirk," The Drumat Ambassador steps forth, "I am Drula Nebaro, of the Drumat High Council.”

It took them 5 hours to reach the sacred grounds of Drumat political proceedings, the sun beating down on them relentlessly. Leonard just about sinks to his knees when they finally get to stop. Sam just puts away her knife, having been whittling a stick down to nothing, but she heightens her guard. The Drumats are tall, amphibian-like beings, green skin constantly moist and constantly spritzing their skin with water. They stand heads over the Belissians, both groups with disdainful sneers on their faces. Kirk's gut twists with dread, just knowing this isn't going to go well.

"Right. Is there anything that needs to be done before we proceed?" He asks.

"Since you have followed the Procession of Neutrality, no," Nebaro huffs, "We were beginning to wonder whether you Belissians would finish it at all."

“Of course we did. You fail to recall that no other species is as weak as yours in a torrid landscape,” Ny’Dera nips back. Nebaro harrumphs, but guides them into the building nonetheless. 

Every wall drips water, like a constant pipe leaking. Drumats glare daggers at the Belissians, like hyenas watching a lioness prowl past through. Ny'docit crowds himself closer to his mother, forcing his eyes forward. It makes Sam uneasy, edging closer to the ambassador. Her hand itches to grab at her phaser's handle, but she restrains herself. 

The building opens into a botryoidal cavern, some of the bubbles opening to the outside and others not. Water stands in the floor around the desks and chairs, no other people on the room but them.

"Will there be anyone else joining us?" Ny'Dera asks, not yet taking a seat across from Nebaro. 

"No, it will just be us," He says, "Captain Kirk, you bring such a large party for an simple meating."

"Most of my team is for security purposes only," Jim says, "One can never be too careful."

This seems to displease the Drumat, "Do you distrust us, Captain?"

"No, not at all," He says, nervousness obvious only in his eyes. The rest of his face is a charming mask. "We just wanted to ensure there would be no incidents on our travels. They can wait outside though, but I insist my first officer and chief of security attend."

"Of course," Nebaro sneers.

The other security officers gladly wait outside the door, Leonard hesitating for a moment. A smile of confidence from both Jim and Sam pushes him out into the hall, the doors sliding shut with a click. The click echoes, more like the sound of a lock than just the peg slipping in pace.

"And then you Belissians had to drag a child into this." Nebaro sighs.

"My child is the next generation of rule," Ny'Dera defends ferociously, "It is our tradition to only sign accords with the next generation in attendance, so they may know what it is they are inheriting. Unlike your dregs of spawn you can't seem to pick between for an idiot ruler-"

"Please, if everyone would be able to take a seat and calm down, we can proceed with the treaty proceedings." Kirk has his thumb on his communicator, just in case.

Both parties harrumph and take their seats, Sam standing behind Spock and Kirk's chairs due to lack of open spaces. Rancorous argument breaks out in a manner of minutes, Jim and Spock looking between themselves- even the Vulcan looks at a loss for words. Sam's fingers drum against the handle of her phaser, her patience fading. 

"–You have to at least give us that small leeway," Krulik demands.

"It is insignificant to us, it should not even matter!” Nebaro argues.

"If it is insignificant, then why is this a point to raise raucous over!" It sounds more like a fight between angry spouses, drawing attention from above. People duck into the light from the bubbles in the ceilings, peering down on the verbal scuffle. Sam's hackles raise when someone drops something through the window.

"Hey, look out!” She calls their attention, at least getting Kirk's and Spock's as the thing clatters against the table. 

It's a small metal orb, the cap twisting and clicking inwards. Sam's gut clenches, grasping Kirk's shoulder, “Captain-!"

She doesn't get another word in before it goes off, a thick smoke clouding the room and clogging her throat. She coughs, cutting through the smoke to lift Ny'docit over the back of his chair. Kirk sputters, clutching at Spock's shoulder as they tear out of their chairs, staggering out of the cloud and towards the door. It doesn't budge when Sam tries the knob, Ny'docit still gasping for breath in the crook of her arm. She hands him over to Kirk, catching him off guard while she kicks the door open. Leonard jumps, the security officers jumping to guard the Ambassador as she cuts out of the smoke. Nebaro doesn't follow.

All eyes are on them as they stand in the doorway, bodies all frozen under the line of fire from the Drumat's. The tallest of the dozen sneers down at them, impressively frightening for a species without teeth. "I told them the smoke bombs would have no effect." He growls. Sam raises her phaser, her officers following suit. "Oh, don't make this harder on yourselves. This treatise talk was a waste of everyone's times. We will have the unrest we seek-"

Sam doesn't shoot, the phaser fire blasting over her head. Ambassador Krulik bears her teeth, "Then have it.” And the Drumats roar and surge towards them. 

“Run!" Sam screeches, nailing down two or three Drumats as the rest scurry down the adjacent hall. Phaser fire grazes over head, Leonard screeching as one narrowly misses his head. At the corners of the halls, Sam turns and shoots, switching from stun to kill. No one has to know, she figures. The hallway ends in a curling stairway, sunlight spilling around them as they ascend. The footsteps of the enemy drown out their own. 

“Kirk to Enterprise! We need evac. ASAP!” He yells into his comm. A phaser beam shoots right past Sam’s hair, a yell strangling in her throat as she ducks.

“You okay!” Leonard stops in his tracks at her scream, sliding at the top of the stairs.

“Keep going, dammit!” She grits, turning at the corner of the stairs and shooting down through the hand rails. She manages to nail one in the shoulder before she has to keep running up after them. Wind cools the sweat on her brow as she breaks out into the walk way, Drumats climbing over rooftops with phasers ready. 

“Beaming in just a moment, Captain,” the technician’s voice echoes over the communicator, but the other beings are closing in. In the open of the catwalk, there is no where to hide from the phaser fire. Squaring her shoulders, Sam fires, the rest with phasers doing the same. Slipping into a numbing calm, almost a familiar haze, she hits one right between the eyes. Leonard bites the inside of his cheek as he watches the bodies drop from the roofs and down the stairs. 

“Ready to Energize, on your mark!” The communicator shrieks back. Sam jumps as she hears footsteps behind them, more storming out of an adjacent staircase. One aims though their group at the Captain, Leonard not realizing he’s stuck in the crossfire. Her voice can’t press out her desperate yell as she pivots and runs. The world turns grey as Sam pushes past Leonard, phaser raised. As his phaser fires, she pulls the trigger. In the white haze that blazes over all existence, she drops to the ground. 

“SAM!” Leonard manages to catch her before she drops to the ground, hands pressing to the bleeding wound ripping through the side of her uniform. The Drumat staggers before he drops, blue blood seeping down his front from his gaping neck wound before he drops back down the stairs. But more are coming.

“Hatfield is down!” Kirk flips open the communicator violently, “ Energize and get a med team on stand by!”

“Yes’sir!” She barks.

“Sam, I need you to stay awake, alright?” Leonard pleads, looking her in the eyes. They’re bleary, but they follow him, “Sweetheart, I really need you to stay with me okay?”

“ Alr’ght…” She slurs, the world swirling and spinning as she clutches her hand over his. She hisses as it puts more pressure over the wound, “ Ooooh. I’know thi’is nec’sary… but christ ’n’a cracker it hurts…”

“I know, I know,” He chews his lip raw, blood making his hands slick.

“ ‘ve had worse though…” She trails off as numbness starts creeping up into her limbs.

“Energize,” Jim barks urgently into the communicator. The pull of the transporter on his stomach doesn’t bother Leonard, but the fading blur in her hazel eyes petrifies him.


	5. October - Part 2

Blood stains the cracks of his hands, taunting him. Sagging deeper into his chair, Leonard takes slow deep breaths, not noticing that it follows the beat of the heart monitor on the only active biobed. Sam’s mouth hangs slack, Leonard’s ears straining to hear her raspy breath– it’s slow, but constant, and it soothes his nerves. Threading his clammy hands through his hair, he lets his eyes close.

_Red stains her tunic even darker as Leonard presses firmly over the wound in her side. His heart clogs in his throat as the transporter room flickers into existence around them. Her eyes are bleary, everything but those eyes fade to nothingness in Leonard’s head. Footsteps shake the ground as Nurse Chapel leads in a stretcher, the rest of the away team pressing to the walls to let them through. The phaser drops from Sam’s other hand, the hand over Leonard’s clammy as more blood seeps onto the Doctor’s uniform._

_“Take over putting pressure on this, I’ll lift her,” Leonard hisses, trying to get up from the awkward kneeling position and still keep pressure on her wound. Chapel slides her hands over Sam’s and presses down. A hiss catches in the brunette’s throat, ferociously blinking tears from her eyes as white hot pain cuts through the numb. Her usual pained laugh doesn’t even squeeze out of her clenched throat._

_“Just hang on, Sam,” He slips his arms beneath her legs and shoulders, rising with Christine, shuffling down the steps and setting her on the stretcher. “Keep your eyes open for me, okay?”_

_“ ‘kay…” she sighs weakly, head rolling back as Leonard’s hands press back over the wound. Lights sear Sam’s eyes from overhead, a halo shining around Leonards head. She “Y’look pretty godly ri’now…”_

_“Really?” He snorts, but the worry bites away the hints of a smirk. The doors to sickbay open, cold air biting as they roll her into the hall. “You’re pretty angelic yourself, but don’t go ascending on me, ya hear me?”_

_“No pr’m’ss…” Sam’s voice gurgles as her eyes start to roll back._

_“_ Bones _…?” He doesn’t answer them as panic rises in his chest._

_“Someone get me a tricorder and transfusion bags!” He orders, the Sickbay on fire with urgency._

 

“Bones…?” Leonard snorts, jolting away from the hand on his shoulder and nearly kicking himself out of his chair. Jim’s lips purse in a terse smile, drawing his hand back into his pockets. “Hey, uh… is Sam okay?”

“Yeah,” He scrapes a hand over his face, trying to wipe away the last bits of sleep. Picking himself out of the chair, the hem of his uniform crunches with dried blood. Scanning quickly across her monitor, he tries to keep his sigh of relief quiet. “Lost a lot of blood, but she should pull through just fine.”

Jim hears the sigh of relief clear as a bell. “Are you gonna be okay?” Jim asks, leaning against the countertop behind him. 

Leonard raises a brow, grunting defensively, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Almost losing someone important does things to you, Bones,” Jim raises his hands in front of him, “I think we both know that.”

Pursing his lips, Leonard sighs, “I think that’s more than an exaggeration. Is that all you needed, Jim?”

“Yeah…” He steps away from the counter, concern plain on his face as he walks backwards to the Sickbay door, “You know where to find me if you need me, Bones.”

The instant the doors close behind him, Leonard plucks up his chair by the back, carrying it quietly to sit closer to her bedside and wait. 

——

The world fades in more fuzzy than a tube tv searching for channels, that old comparison in her mind forcing a wheezy laugh from her throat. The instant McCoy catches that sound, he picks himself up from the closer chair. It was purely to be close to all of his patients, he told Chapel when she asked him what he was doing, but she assumed it was more for his own sake. Of course, all she did was roll her eyes and go to message her little cluster about the goings on of Hatfield and McCoy. 

“What’re you laughing about?” He asks softly, leaning against her bedside, “Nearly giving me a heart attack?”

“Ngh? Oh…” Sam’s eyes are bleary as they blink open, her pupils dilated to the point that the soft hazel of her eyes is gone. She feels high as a kite, rasping out, “Leonard, there y’are… how’re… how’re you?”

“Just fine,” He laughs, keeping his voice low and calm, “How’re you?”

“Really numb,” She smacks her dry tongue against the roof of her mouth, “Think you could get me some water?”

“Sure thing, darlin’,” he crosses the room to pour her a cup of water, “You should probably sit up to drink, okay?”

“M’kay…” She purses her lips. Everything shakes as she forces herself to sit up, Leonard placing a palm on the center of her back to make sure she doesn’t collapse back onto the bed. Both hands tightly clasp around the cup as she sips at it, her side stitching painfully even through the painkiller haze, but she ignores it. With his warm brown eyes spurring her on, she dumps the rest of the water down her throat despite the sting of arching her back to do so. Leonard holds his hand out to take her cup as she finishes it, whisking it away to the trash as Sam eases herself back down. “How long will I have to be here…?”

“Well, we’ll need to make sure everything heals properly,” he pulls his seat closer to her bed, “Probably no more than a couple of days.” 

“O–oh—“ Pain blossoms in her side, Leonard catching that wince.

“How much does it hurt?” He picks up a hypospray and fiddles with it.

“Ngh, about a 7?” She crumples back down against the cot. 

Leonard hums, switching settings on the hypospray, “I’m going to give you a small dose of a painkiller, alright?”

Chewing the inside of her cheek, she nods as it starts to spread. As he presses the hypospray to her neck, the pinch is nothing to the wash of coolness through her body. “You’re um… you’re okay, right?”

“I’ll be fine,” Leonard’s eyes crinkle at the sides as a smile warms his eyes, Sam’s heart skipping either from that or the painkillers… somehow. She decides to blame the painkillers. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“I dun’think so…” She shakes her head, sinking back down to the bed. Her eyes blur as the painkillers hit her again, the first thought coming to mind bubbling out, “Did you know your name backwards is Yoccm Dranoel?”

That catches him off guard, raising a brow at her, “Oh really?”

“Yeah,” She nods, settling down against the tough pillow, “I thought of that the other day, I thought it sounded like the name of like… an elf or a lord in a fantasy world…”

“Well yours would be…” he purses his lips, trying to figure it out on the spot. Sam beats him to it.

“Dleiftah Ahtnamas.” She nods, babbling on without restraint, “Not too bad. Used to tease my big sister, her’s was funny.”

“What’s her name?” Leonard leans back into his chair, happy to just sit with her and talk. It helped that he was off shift now. 

“Felicity,” She scrunches up her nose, “Yticilef is just weird… do you have any siblings?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, “I’m an only child. Did you just have an older sister?”

“Nope,” she tugs a hand through her hair, “One more older, two younger sisters…” 

“At least you’re the middle child and not the baby?” he kicks one leg up on his knee, laughing at the face Sam makes as she shakes her head, “Oh really?”

“You’ve never heard of middle child syndrome?” She groans.

“I’m entirely sure you made that up,” Leonard shakes his head with a laugh. Neither notice Nurse Chapel cleaning up the back sections of the Sickbay, slowing down with a smirk to watch the pair. 

“I did not, it’s a thing!” She argues, “Y’should look it up.”

“I’ll do that,” He chuckles, looking back at the other occupied beds in the sickbay,“Why don’t we calm down, though? We’ve got other patients, too.”

“Oh… right.” She licks her lips and settles onto the biobed. “How long have you been here…?”

“Not too long,” he lies. Chapel snorts, walking past them to put away a tricorder in the proper cupboard. 

“Leonard, what are you still doing here? Your shift ended 3 hours ago, didn’t it?” She smirks as she steps up to the toe of Sam’s bed. His shoulders curl up somewhat, lips drawing into a tight line and the embarrassment plain on his face.

“I figured I’d stick around,” He lies, “If anyone needed me.”

“I’m sure someone did, Leonard,” She flicks her eyes to Sam before she starts backing out of the hall, “I’m out of here for the night, M’Benga’s in the back office if there’s anything else. Glad you’re alright, Sam.”

“Thanks, Christine,” A loopy smile comes back to her face as she watches the nurse go before turning back to McCoy, “I appreciate it… you sticking around, ’n all…”

“Yeah,” He rubs the back of his neck, eyes flickering up to the monitor above her head, “You should probably get some more rest, it’s probably not easy to stay awake through those painkillers.”

“Yeah, definitely…” She licks her chapped lips, not meaning to ask aloud, “Are you going to stay?”

“I will,” Leonard says after a short pause, pulling his chair a little closer to her. A smile cracks across her face, eyes batting closed. He reaches out and brushes away a couple of strands of hair from her face, Sam humming in contentment. 

“Thanks, Leon-ard.” Her voice cracks as she forces out the words, her entire body feeling numb and clammy. She reaches up for his hand, clasping it in her own and pressing a soft kiss to the flat of his palm. “Glad you’re okay…”

As she relinquishes his hand, Leonard’s chest clenches, unsure of what to do about it. Leonard watches her face settle into a numb sleep, sighing as he leans back into his chair.

With the soft rhythm of her breathing, a small gold chain glimmers beneath the collar of her medical gown. He hesitates for a moment, curious about the thin piece of jewelry. He pulls it out gently, holding the small gold locket between his fingers. It falls open on its loose and worn out latch, showing him only one printed photo inside. It’s of a small girl, maybe 5 or 6, pictured with mostly muted colors, except for her bright green eyes. The open side is engraved with cursive letters, ‘ _P.A.H.F._ ’. Frowning down at it, he closes it and tucks it away under the collar of the medical bay robes. 

He sits there, staring off into space for a good while as he listens to the soft rhythm of her monitor. Her head rolls against the pillow to face him. Resting back in his chair, he tries as much as he can to not watch her calm face until his own exhaustion forces him to retreat to his small office. 

 

——

 

‘ _Jack– No!!_ ’ Sam feels the entire fabric of her being scorch with pain, _‘No, you can’t let them take her– NO_!’ 

A scream clogs her windpipe as she shoots out of her dream, body racked with pain as she slams into the floor. Someone yells, hands clutching onto her and all she can do is flail and struggle away from them. She lands a fist on someone’s cheek scrabbling away just a half a step before she crumples to the ground.

“Samantha!” Christine shouts, clutching onto her shoulder and shaking her, “Samantha, snap out of it! You’re in the Sickbay, don’t make me get a sedative!” 

A yelp rips through her throat, clutching onto Christine’s arm with a lethal grip. Pain ripples through her body from head to toe, a sob ripping though her burning throat. Christine tuts and sinks down next to her, “Hey, it’s okay, we’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.” 

She rubs her back, Sam dissolving into a puddle of sobs and apologies, gasps tugging against her injured side. They sit together on the floor, Sam huddled up against the side of the bed, her hand scrabbling to clutch at her locket. After she finally begins to feel dizzy, she clamps her mouth shut and forces her way into a numb haze.

“I… can you help me back onto the bed?” Sam asks, her voice barely a whisper. 

“Yeah, of course,” Christine slowly helps her to her feet, Sam hissing as it pulls her wounded side. 

“What time is it?”

“Just after 0600,” She helps the brunette up into the bed, Sam clutching over her side. Concern is plain on the blonde’s face, but she doesn’t act on it. Smart of her, Sam thinks. “Dr. McCoy isn’t in yet if you’re wondering, probably wouldn’t be functioning either.”

“Oh, thank God,” She drawls through a hiss, leaning back against the headrest, “Holy cow, this stings.”

“I can grab you a painkiller,” Christine clips away, coming back momentarily with a hypospray. Sam sighs with relief and sags against the bed, Christine laughs like a soft bell, “Anything else I can get you?”

“Nah,” She sags against the bed, “How long am I allowed to sit in peace before Leonard gets in?”

“Probably around an hour,” she laughs, leaning against the adjacent bed.

“I could listen to that man yell at me all day, but Christ on a cracker, it’s too early for that,” She sinks down further against the cot. 

Christine snorts, “Oh? What makes you say that?”

“I ‘unno,” she barely gets a word out before Leonard comes stumbling through the door, dripping sleep as he makes his way into the Sickbay. As he yawns, she watches him scrunch up his face, blinking his bleary eyes and making his way towards them. “Speak of the devil…”

“G’mornin’ you two,” He gives them the smallest of smirks, leaning against the foot of the bed. “You feelin’ alright?”

“I guess,” She shrugs, drawing it into a yawn and a stretch. Reaching behind herself, she presses the button on her back panel, the pain fading from her side completely now. When she settles back down, her eyes focus only on Leonard. Christine takes that as her cue to leave, Leonard momentarily looking up at her before looking to Sam, “I um, fell off the bed this morning?”

“Jesus, darlin’,” He frowns, his heart twanging when he didn’t catch himself from using the pet name, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” She nods, “Christine got me a painkiller already, so I should be fine.”

“Right,” He smiles, tapping one of the monitors for a more in depth analysis of her health, “Huh… From the looks of it, you should be able to head back to your quarters later today. You seem to be healing up faster than projected. Either that or the machine’s busted.”

“Nah. It’s just Death keeping his end of the deal,” She smirks.

“You need to get Jim in contact with him,” Leonard says. Sam hopes he never gets that opportunity, but she nods anyways. 

“Is everyone else okay?” She asks.

“They’re fine. Some scrapes, the kid got a chemical burn from that smoke, but we fixed him up before they shoved off.” Leonard says, leaning against the foot of the bed. The monitor beeps at them, the Doctor moving to scan them.

“Huh… how are you feeling?” He asks, confused at the reading. 

“Fine?” She shifts. The pain is more or less gone, able to stretch at her full range with a small amount of pain. “Doesn’t hurt. This supposed to happen with these painkillers?”

“No, but this is showing no remaining sub-dermal scar tissue,” Sam can barely hear him talking over the blood rushing through her ears. “I… We should keep an eye on you, but you don’t have to stay down here if you don’t want. I’d like to get a blood sample before you go though.”

“Of course,” She swings her feet over the edge of the bed, not noticing as the hospital gown slips up her legs farther. Leonard keeps his eyes in the right places, only stealing a glance when he steps away with the blood sample. He shuffles back with a set of black under uniform clothes, helping her off of the cot before closing privacy curtains around her. She changes quickly, the raw covered wound pulling a little, but she does her best to ignore it. Once she pulls on the slightly baggy uniform, she pushes outside of the privacy curtain, “Uh, anywhere I should put these?” She holds up the odd robe thing, feeling a little more exposed in the black under shirt without a bra.

“I’ll take that. I um…” Leonard speaking pulls her back out of her head as she hands him the robe, his ears almost on fire, “I wanted to thank you. For jumping in front of me, and uh… well, for saving me.”

“Oh, uh, of course. It’s all a part of the job, ” She licks her lips, “I couldn’t leave the ship without her C.M.O., right?”

“Ah,” Leonard’s smile flickers away slightly, Sam not quite catching it as she cuffs the long sleeves of the shirt around her wrists, “Right. Do you need anything else before you leave? I hope you know that you’ll need to take it easy for the next week or so, and Kirk has given you some leave time for it. If you experience any pain, I expect you to come back here.”

“Right, of course,” She nods, toeing on her shoes from the foot of the bed slowly, “I um… I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah,” He doesn’t exactly meet her eye as she starts walking away. Sam just wants to hole herself up in her room and do whatever it takes to get the revisited memories out of her head. She walks out without a second glance, Leonard left standing in the middle of Sickbay and not noticing as Christine steps up next to him.

“Coffee?” She asks, holding out a cup to him. Leonard almost jumps, but manages to keep his composure, trying to hide his disappointment beneath morning grogginess. He just grunts as he accepts the coffee, hiding his pout behind the rim of the cup, “Are you going to be okay, Leonard?”

“I‘m fine, dammit,” he grunts, shuffling off towards his office, “There’s no patients in right now, right?”

“Nope, she was the only one for now,” She crosses her arms, “Why?”

“If there’s no paperwork to be done, I’m going to go rest my eyes,” He grouches.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to leave her alone for now…?”Christine asks, following him into his office. 

“Her vitals were completely normal,” He frowns down at the vial of blood waiting to be examined, “Told her to come back if the pain spikes up again.”

“This morning when she fell off the bed, it just… I’d be worried.” Christine shrugs, “She seemed pretty distressed. You could try to ask her to dinner or something? Just check in on her?”

Leonard purses his lips, “We’ll see about that…” When she leaves him alone in his office, he figures it’s tempting. But her voice in the back of his head stops him from sending her a message, 

echoing, “ _It’s all a part of the job._ ”

—

The instant Sam’s door closes behind her, she rips her full bottle of bourbon out of her dresser and downs a couple of gulps. She keeps her eyes wide open, lest those green eyes come back. A sob chokes in her throat, liqueur spilling down her chin– God, she’d give anything to have those eyes back in her life. She clutches her hand over her locket, shoving herself back into a corner of her room to drink herself into a hazy solace. 

—

At the end of his shift, Leonard shoots her a message, but there’s not even a response the next morning when he wakes up. He just brushes off the disappointment and gets ready for his next shift.After a cup of coffee in the safe and quiet of his quarters, he makes his way towards the turbolift. But of course, he has to pass her door to get there. His gut twists with out-of-place hesitation, pressing the button on the door. Reasoning with himself, he just wants to check in on her, for medical purposes. Definitely. He hears it chime, but there’s nothing after that. Cursing at himself, he figures she’s already gone to her shift. His hand drops from the keypad, but when his finger brushes the enter key, the door slides open. 

Frowning, he steps into the doorway, “Sam…? You in here?” He cautiously takes a step into the dim room, the lights at least at 20%. He doesn’t hear a response, but there’s something, a small hiccuping sound. An empty liqueur bottle sits on the bed, Leonard picking it up and turning it over in his hands. He almost drops it when he hears a sob behind him, turning quickly. Sam is barely visible from her spot curled deep underneath of her desk. It shakes above her with her quivering form, her bloodshot eyes blindly staring down at the carpet.

“Sam…” He whispers, kneeling down in front of her. She doesn’t see him, doesn’t move, biting back sobs. “Hey, Sam… Darlin’, are you okay?”

Her eyes flick up at ‘darlin’, tears still streaming down her face, strands of messy hair hanging in her eyes that he wants to brush away. Blood rushing in her ears drowns out every other word he says, following his movements like a trapped animal. The alcohol has long worn off, leaving her nerves frazzled and jumpy. Everything is hazy, her mind a constant static of ‘too close, too vulnerable’ and it makes her skin crawl. Leonard chews the inside of his cheek, extending an open hand to her slowly. The animalistic side of her brain wants her to smack him away, to scream, to get him out; she listens to her normal side, shoved into the back of her head. She clasps tightly onto his hand, letting him pull her to her shaking feet. The instant she feels his warmth, she throws her arms around his middle and clutches onto him. 

“Oh!” Leonard stumbles, knees hitting the edge of her bed, but he manages to keep them upright with his arms around her. He hums, “Shh, I’ve got ya’, darlin’.” 

That breaks the dam. Her fingers clutch onto his shirt, shoulders jerking with sobs. Leonard’s heart aches as she cries against his chest, starting to sway them back and forth. They sway together in near silence, Leonard combing through her hair. It begins to calm her down, fingers loosening from his shirt to scrub the tears from her face. She blinks down at his tearstained shirt, trying to avoid his concerned eyes. Every time she sees those innocent eyes, it makes her chest clench.

“Sorry about your shirt,” She sniffles, trying to regain a semblance of normalcy. 

“Don’t worry about it,” He gives her a concerned frown, “Are you okay…?”

“Y-yeah,” her voice cracks as she lies, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Missions like that take a lot out of you, even after so long.”

He nods, hands moving to rest on her waist, “You know, I’m uh… I’m here for you.”

“I know…” It’s touching, really. Sam knows this isn’t something that will happen again, but she smiles at him nonetheless, “Thanks Leonard.”

“Of course,” He smiles back, still masked with concern. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Near death experiences freak me out,” She says, another lie. When she closes her eyes, different eyes stare back at her, sharper than the doe ones that were there before– one blue and one green. She forces herself to breath and open her eyes, “I just need some time to snap out of it.”

“Anything I can do to help?” He offers, noticing as her eyes flicker down to the empty liqueur bottle.

She decides against asking for any more booze, that was a one-way street into Mistake-ville. “If uh. If you’ve got the time, some company would be nice…?”

Leonard’s heart pulses in his chest, “O’course. I could come by after alpha shift if you’d like?”

“I’d appreciate that,” She wraps her arms around her center. “I made you late, didn’t I?”

“That’s alright. If there were any emergencies, they would have contacted me,” He assures her, “I could bring food over?”

“Sure,” She says, pushing her hair from her face, “I guess I’ll just leave my door unlocked… again.”

“I’ll message you when I’m on my way,” Leonard chuckles nervously, “Will you be okay for now?”

She hesitates, “I think I’ll be able to handle myself. You go ahead to your shift.”

“I’ll see you later then,” Leonard moves without thinking, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He freezes the instant he realizes what he just did, Sam’s brows shooting up at him. He stammers out something, quickly absconding out the door. She’s left standing in the middle of her room, looking after the closing door. A nagging feeling bites away the bloom in her chest, walking over to look at her exhausted face in the mirror.

“This… is a bad idea,” She murmurs to herself, but she’s already made up her mind. 

— 

Christine barely sees Leonard as he all but jogs through the Sickbay doors and into his office, lips drawn in a tight line. She follows him despite him closing the door behind him. His heart is pounding out of his chest from sprinting away from Sam’s quarters, hand running through his hair. He flips around at the sound of the door opening, letting out a sigh of relief when it’s just Chapel.

“Where’s the fire, Dr. McCoy?” She asks.

“No where,” He coughs, smoothing his hair back into place. His cowlick still sticks up stubbornly. 

“Then why were you running?” She cocks her hip out, crossing her arms, “And… is your shirt wet?”

“Uh,” he looks down at his tearstained tunic, “Damn, didn’t notice,” He lies smoothly, “Just woke up a little later than I’d planned.”

“That’s very unlike yourself,” Christine frowns, but lets it slide. These past few days hadn’t been kind to him, after all, “Have you heard back from Ms. Hatfield yet?”

“She said she’s doing okay,” He lies, fidgeting with his tunic sleeves as he takes his seat.

“Any pain?”

“None that she mentioned,” Leonard says. 

Christine taps her fingers on her arm. If he’s not going to say what’s really on his mind, then she’s not going to press, “Alright. Keep me posted, though Ok? I trust she’ll go to you first.”

Leonard opens his mouth to ask what she means by that, but she walks out the door before he can get the words out. Sagging down into his chair, he rubs his face with his hands. God, how in the hell could he have reverted back to a middle school boy, especially the nervousness whipping his heart into overdrive. A ping from his PADD draws him out of his sulking, figuring the work would do him good. He opens it without looking.

‘ _L.C. Samantha Hatfield_

_Subject: Hey_

_So, any ideas for dinner?_

_-Sam.’_

—

While he’d been hoping to get to know Sam a little more, Leonard is more than happy to see Sam relax like this. Her leg presses against his as she curls them underneath her, watching the shitty old movie play on the holoscreen, one from her personal movie collection. Flipping through the drive, she’d planned to pick a more recent movie, but she had movies dating all the way back to the 20th century. And of course, the ‘Shitty As All Ever-loving Fuck’ folder was too enticing for Leonard. 

“How in the hell did someone actually get paid to make this?” Leonard snorts up at the holoscreen in the rec-room. Sam laughs, genuine and warm, leaning a little closer from her perch on the couch beside him.

“This isn’t even the shittiest movie I have from this studio,” She says, “Avalanche Sharks is definitely worse for the age. Android Coven is definitely the worst I have, but that’s a 22nd century one.”

“How can anything be worse than this? It doesn’t even make sense?” He asks.

“That just means the rest are worse. We’ll just have to work our way up to recent shitty movies,” She says. His mind buzzes at the promise of a next time. 

“Hey guys?” Jim smirks from the doorway to the rec-room, Leonard turning to face him much quicker than Sam does.

“Evening, Captain,” Sam greets with a wave of her hand, “Wanna join us?”

“Uh, sure?” He pointedly ignores McCoy’s glare as he takes a seat on another couch. He gives the screen a confused look as the characters start climbing up the Great Pyramid, entirely covered in snow and ice. “What is this?”

“Age of Ice,” Sam says, “Part of my shitty movie collection.”

“To quote, ‘Shitty As All Ever-loving Fuck’ movie collection,” Leonard teases. Sam scrunches up her nose at him, Leonard chuckling. Jim’s smug grin turns up to high-beams across the couch, but Leonard doesn’t notice. The movie takes over the room for a couple minutes, shitty acting and awful CGI calming Sam’s nerves. It makes her forget sometimes, even to the point where she’s humming along to the movie score. 

“How’re you feeling by the way?” Jim asks, “Given you being out and about, Bones is at least comfortable with you being on your own.”

“I’m fine,” She shrugs, “A twinge or two, but it was just a glancing blow, I guess.”

“I don’t have trust issues with everyone, Jim,” Leonard sighs, “Just you. If I let you go too soon, I know you’ll screw something up. Then I won’t know until Spock tells me about it, and I’d just rather cut out the middle man.”

“Makes sense,” Sam hums. She looks different in her civilian clothes to Jim, much less severe, much smaller in baggy pajamas. She turns her gold locket over and over between her fingers, fiddling with the latch as she gets lost in the movie she’s seen dozens of times. 

The movie twists in the weirdest of ways, cutting off the plot almost abruptly, the credits rolling across the screen. Sam yawns, curling against the back of the couch, “As much as I’d love to watch another shitty movie with y’all, today’s been…” She trails off, eyes meeting Leonard’s.

“Right,” Those nerves are back, “I’ll, uh, see you around?”

“Of course,” She smirks, getting up from the couch, “You still need to watch Android Coven.”

“Can’t wait,” Leonard chuckles. As she passes, she clasps her hand over his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

“G’night you two,” Sam gives Jim a small wave, but as she walks out the door, she smiles back at McCoy. 

For a moment, both men stare at the closed rec-room door with the credits song playing softly. Jim’s grin is almost painful to look at by the time Leonard turns around.

“So,” He says smugly, “What’s that all about, Bones?”

“Look, she just had a rough night,” Leonard sighs, “You should know how it feels after you almost die.”

Jim thins his lips into a line, “Right… glad you’re there for her, Bones.”

“And don’t read to deeply into that,” McCoy says, mostly telling himself. But he knows it’s too late for that.


	6. November

Those green eyes haunt her for the first time in… well, longer than she can remember. Every time she closes her eyes, they’re there; wide, sad eyes. Sleep isn’t an option with them still there, the bags under her eyes are practically luggage after the past couple of weeks of odd sleep hours and extra shifts. She wishes she hadn’t been so hasty with her booze, it would be easier if she at least had that crutch to lean on. Luckily for her, the gym seems to be empty whenever she gets there at odd hours of shifts.

Aiming another swing, the punching bag swings violently on its chain. She unwraps her knuckle tape and re-wraps them, a nervous habit she always quells before diving right back into fiercely beating the bag. The only times she stops to breath is when the music playing from her PADD turns off, setting it back on the beginning of the playlist. Mellow acoustic music flows into the room, she continues to pound the punching bag into oblivion despite the odd mesh of tempos. Sweat pours down her temples as she punches double-time to the tempo, no pain left in her side in the numbness that shadowed her since she left the rec-room. The music grows louder, and Sam gets lost in it, not noticing as another person walks into the gym. 

Leonard drags a hand through his hair as he steps onto the mats, stretching out and headed right for a weight machine. He stops to watch the weight bag swing, Sam’s hair swaying in a high ponytail that barely graces her shoulders. The music gets steadily louder, words unintelligible as he watches sweat pour down her neck and her shoulders. He thinks for a moment about leaving; he came down here to work out, he may as well do that and take the opportunity to admire the woman just in a sports bra and spandex pants. His eyes trace across a lattice of scars and the new split across her side, dark pink against her tan. Blinking himself out of it, he chews his cheek and activates a weight machine.

The beep pulls Sam from her reverie, letting the bag swing on its own to watch the other man. His muscles ripple through his standard issue tank top as he adds another weight to the stack before he takes a seat. As he turns, he looks up right at her, their eyes catching. Unfortunately, she doesn’t notice the bag swinging right into her side. “Oof!”

“Woah there,” Leonard stands as Sam catches herself on her other foot and slows the bag, “You okay?”

“Yeah, just fine.” She laughs sheepishly. “What’re you doin’ down here?”

“Haven’t had the time to come down here in a while, figured before my shift was as good a time as any,” He shrugs, “Didn’t I tell you to take it easy on your side?”

“It hasn’t hurt since, I promise,” She chuckles, “First time back down here since.” That was a lie, but here’s hoping it took. 

“Good, good…” He purses his lips as he scoots back under the bar of his machine. With a firm grasp, he slowly makes his way through reps. After changing the song to a quicker paced acoustic song, she goes back to punching at the bag, definitely not sneaking peeks over at Leonard every couple of moments. Fatigue begins to creep in through the numbness, Sam stepping away from the swinging bag and swiping sweat from her brow. She doesn’t notice as the slow piano starts playing over her PADD, sinking down to sit and catch her breath. 

As the twang of a guitar fades in and an accented voice comes on the speaker, it catches Leonard’s interest. Slow country music begins to fill the room, Sam mouthing along to the words silently as she begins to unwrap the tape from her hands. Stretching slowly, she tries to tell herself that Leonard was staring off a thousand miles and not at her; it was anything but the truth.

“I didn’t figure you to be the type to listen to country music,” He comments, easing the bar back up and scooting off the chair.

“I don't listen to tons, but I love it,” She shrugs, tightening her ponytail and swaying softly to the beat, “Just… feel’s homey, you know?”

“Yeah,” He smiles softly, “Say uh… would you like to dance?” He doesn’t know what makes him ask, but he definitely wants to.

“I…” Sam staggers behind the beat just a tick before she catches it again, “Sure. Just know I’m not the greatest of dancers, and I’m sweaty as all hell.”

“I think I’ll live,” He makes his way over to her, nervous energy curling in his stomach. She licks her lips, balling up the tape and getting up to her feet. He holds out a hand to her, which she takes. 

As the tempo picks up slightly, Leonard pulls her close to him, her other hand resting on his upper arm as he pulls her into a sway. A man’s voice pours over them, a nervous laugh catching in Sam’s throat as she lets Leonard take the lead. Leonard’s brain churns as he digs out his memories of the last time he slow danced- his wedding. Sam gulps as she threatens away a very similar memory.

Blinking himself out of the past, he cups his hand more comfortably at her waist, pulling her closer as they step together. As the guitar plays over the piano and the music comes to a head, Leonard takes his hand from Sam’s waist, leading her through a slow twirl. Sam’s heart leaps into her throat as she twirls right back into his arms, a warm smile jumping to her face. Lyrics hang on her lips, mouthing along silently, unable to look away from his’s warm brown eyes. The words begin to fade out on a chorus of ‘ooh’s’, their feet slowing towards a stop, but they refuse to leave the embrace. They stand together, Leonard’s hands on her waist and her hands on his chest as they refuse to break their gaze despite the change of music. They pay it no heed.

“I’m… really glad you’re okay,” Leonard mutters, something he wished he’d said a couple of days ago. His hand reaches up to wipe away a bead of sweat from her temple, thumb brushing over her cheek. 

Her stomach flips as she leans into his hand, whispering a very quiet, “I’m glad you’re okay, too.” 

Another song starts up, a woman’s voice taking over this time as they start to sway again, Leonard’s hand not dropping from her cheek. Sam shuffles a little closer to him, licking her lips again nervously. The taller man watches with intrigue, a fire in the pit of his stomach spurring him on. Slowly, he leans down in the instrumental of the song, Sam following his movements intently. Leonard’s hand cups Sam’s jaw, tilting her head up. The music becomes nonexistent in Sam’s head as he leans closer and closer. Flickering her eyes closed, she presses up onto her toes. 

Leonard’s arm tightens around her waist as Sam’s lips meet his, her arms slinging around his neck and drawing him even closer. He all but picks her off the ground, cupping the back of her head. Sam hums against his lips, tilting her head and slipping her tongue out to brush against his lip. He groans against her, happily letting her deepen the kiss. Carding her hand through his hair, Sam presses closer to him, everything feeling hotter as her tongue slips against his. They both jump as her PADD chimes through the soft music. 

“O-oh…” Sam gulps, “I should probably see what that is.”

“Yeah,” he whispers, reluctant to let her go, but he does after another beat. She laughs sheepishly as she pads over to the bench, picking up the PADD.

“Damn…” She huffs, swiping sweat drenched hair from her forehead, “Kirk wants to see my report on this months performances at the beginning of Alpha Shift, I’d need to head out now if I’m to get there on time…”

“Shoot,” Leonard snorts, biting back a comment about that idiot actually being the cock-blocker and not the blockee for once, “I guess I’d best be heading up to my shift too.”

“Right,” She nervously bounces on her toes, “I’ll um… Will I see you up there?”

“Probably, knowing those idiots up there, there may be something about to go wrong,” An awful excuse, but he’d probably do anything to be in the same room as her at this point. 

“I’ll see you up there then,” She tries to keep her grin to herself as she steps back into the locker room with her PADD clutched to her side. Stepping to her locker, she lets herself stand in front of it for a moment and hopes to all the Gods out there that had really just happened. She _had_ had some pretty weird delusions in her time, but… this would probably be the most devastating if that were the truth. Christ on a cracker, she needs to stop. People were fun things to fill in the void of life, but this wouldn't end well, she feels it in her chest. Snapping herself out of it, she shuffles towards the ‘freshers with her towel and tunic in hand. 

—

Leonard makes it up to the Bridge before Sam does, hair slightly damp and his undershirt sticking to him after his 5 second ‘fresher. Scotty nods at him as he steps away from the Captain, Jim raising a brow at him as he steps up to the right arm of the Captain’s chair and offering a slow, “Good… morning…? Any reason you’re here?”

“I smell trouble,” He makes the excuse, not entirely offended by Jim’s questioning his appearance, “It’s been too quiet and I just know you’ve got something coming your way.”

“Permission to enter the Bridge, Captain?” Sam asks, PADD clutched to her chest.

“Granted,” Jim smiles as the woman in red tunic steps into his domain, “I’m assuming you have that report?”

“Yes, sir,” Sam nods slightly, her wet braid sticking to the back of her neck. Jim looks between the two wet headed brunets with curiosity, figuring it was only a coincidence. He reads over the report, barely noticing as Dr. Schneps steps up to him. 

“Captain, Pollux five has shown no signs of intelligent life forms uncharacteristic of their class type. It more or less the same throughout the system thus far.” She says.

Jim looks up from the report, offering the PADD back to Sam, “Well, carry out standard procedures on Pollux Four, Melissa. And very good, Ms. Hatfield. You may carry on to your shift.”

“Yes’sir,” She nods, cutting off the end with a yawn. Dr. Schneps wanders back over towards Spock, discussing with him quietly.

“You look tired, Sam,” Leonard comments, unable to help himself. 

“Yeah, just took a while to finalize this report,” She lies, more for the others than for him.

“Why don’t you join me for coffee then?” He asks, already making his way towards the center turbo lift, “I haven’t had the chance do grab my fix this mornin’.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” She snorts, walking into the aft turbolift with the Doctor, who vehemently tries to ignore Jim’s shit eating grin. 

“How long has that been going on?” Scotty asks, Jim scoffing in return. 

“Entering standard orbit around Pollux Four, sir,” Chekov chirps between Scotty and Kirk’s conversation.

“Thank you, Mr. Chekov,” Jim regards before turning back to Scotty, “Past couple of months? Bones is being stingy about it though.”

“Preliminary reports are standing by, Captain,” Spock pulls Jim from his pout, proceeding when he receives a nod, “Class M planet, oxygen and nitrogen atmosphere. No life forms indicated by the scanners. In all respects, quite ordinary.” 

“Huh,” Jim frowns, the average, Terran-like planet serene in the blanket of stars. And almost like a twinkle, a small flash of light blinks from the shadowed edge of the planet, “Hold up… Are you guys… seeing that?”

“What in the name of…” Scotty frowns as the green light begins growing, speeding closer and closer towards the ship. As it takes up more and more of the display, it begins to form the shape of a green hand in the vacuum of space. 

“What the hell is that, Mr. Spock?” Jim barks.

“One moment, Captain,” The Vulcan swivels in his chair towards the consuls.

“I’m not seeing things, right?” Jim’s voice hikes up a pitch.

“Only if I’m the same acid trip you are,” Sulu clutches onto the edge of his display. “That can’t actually be a giant hand in the middle of space, right?”

“It is not comprised of tissue,” Spock reads from his display, “It seems to be a field of energy of some kind.”

“Bring us around, Sulu, hard,” Jim barks, the pilot jumping to follow orders. Uhura clutches onto her seat back, unable to look away from the hand.

“It’s… almost like it wants to grab us.” She gulps, keeping a hand on her station at all costs. 

“Mr. Sulu, get us the hell away from it!” Jim orders, Sulu jumping to throw the engines in reverse but before he can tap the final key, the ship gives a great shudder and throws everyone forward. Jim yells as he’s thrown to the ground, quick to scrabble back to his feet.

“The ship isn’t budging Captain!” Sulu growls, trying to push the thrust and letting the ship hum vigorously with no avail. “The helm isn’t answering.”

Jim curses, “Dammit. Uhura, relay our coordinate and circumstance to the nearest Starbase, and get me the damage report. Sulu try rocking us at full impulse power both ways.” His orders met with nothing but ‘yes sir’s. He picks up his communicator, “Hey Bones, you alright?”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” He barks into his communicator, helping Sam to her feet from the Sickbay floor, “We’ve got a couple of injuries down here, but they’re minimal. What the hell was that?”

“I’ll tell you in a second,” He barks, “Uhura?” 

“Minimal damage to stations 2, 6, 13, but it’s under control,” She clings onto her station as the ship sways slightly, but it does nothing. “Sir, there’s an incoming transmission to one of the scanners.”

“On screen,” Jim orders, immediately face to face with a bronzed man with a halo of bright yellow hair and golden jewelry. Before Jim can speak, the gilded figure on screen beams, all pearly whites.

“Finally!” He boasts, his vest glimmering and damn near blinding, “Finally following the prophecy. Took you long enough didn’t it? Getting out of the plains and valleys of yore?”

“This is Captain James T. Kirk, Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise,” Kirk states once Uhura gives him the ‘go ahead’ nod from her station, “Please identify yourself and state your business.”

“Oh, quite the feast we shall all have here,” the man growls with excitement, drawing a hand through his locks, “Freaking finally!”

“Are you responsible for stopping our ship?” Jim demands, “Because I warn you that we have the means to defend ourselves. If you value your safety, you will let us go.”

“Geez, take it easy, bud. Yes, that’s me, what of it?” The man scoffs, “And how like your fathers you are, the fire of Hector, Odysseus–“

“I really don’t need a history lesson,” Kirk bites, “Release my ship.”

The man is taken aback for a moment, blinking at the screen before hot anger almost visibly shakes him. 

“You test my patience. You _will_ obey me,” He growls, sensors setting off and Scotty barking about increasing external pressure on the ship. “Lest I close my hand.”

“Sir, the levels are skyrocketing, we cann’ae compensate for it any further,” Scotty urges, and Jim growls before he breaks down.

“Okay, okay, fine!” He pushes his hands out before him in defeat, “You win! We’ll comply.”

“Excellent,” The sensors flip off like a switch, Scotty melting into his boots as the godly man snarks, “It would seem the first lesson is done, here’s to hoping it was the most simple. I invite you and your officers to join us, to celebrate! Oh– just one thing– leave behind the one of pointed ears.” Jim instantly looks to Spock, who’s frown settles easily on his face, “He reminds me of Pan– such a snore-fest. Now c’mon, chop chop!”

The transmission cuts away, Jim still staring over at Spock. In the silence that settles over them, Jim picks up his communicator, “Bones? I’m going to need you and Hatfield to meet us at the transporter room.”

“Right away, Captain,” Sam makes it to Leonard’s communicator before he does, fussing over someone with a small cut on their forehead before she can drag him away. Jim jumps at the female voice, knowing now there had to be something up between those two. With a sigh, he makes his way to the turbolift. “C’mon Scotty. We better get going, or else there’ll be an eggshell where we leave the ship. You too, Mr. Chekov. Mr. Sulu, you’ve got the com.”

—

They beam into the center of a courtyard, marble columns around them grown over with vines. Statues stand between them, Jim almost missing the throne recessed below the walkway. Sam’s hand rests on her phaser as they beam down to the planet’s surface, inching closer to Leonard’s side as they stand before the throne, occupied by a man in gold. He stretches over the edge of the throne, smirking lazily down at them. 

“Welcome!” his persona oozes charm as he gets up from his throne, gold glimmering in the sunlight. A golden board jostles where it floats but he pays it no heed, “We were starting to wonder if it would ever happen, you mortals chasing us out into the stars from Earth. Ares will sure be pissed to see this day’s arrived.”

“Who are you?” Jim demands, “And how exactly do you know about Earth?”

“I once ruled it beneath my powerful hand–“

“Oh, puh-lease,” A woman cuts in, all curly hair and sheer pink robes, “Apollo sweetie, you never ruled the way I did.”

“Aphrodite,” Apollo barks, his blond hair bouncing, “Don’t do this in front of the mortals–“

“Mortals!” She squeals whisking right down the stairs, her long legs flashing through the sheer fabric and showing off the more teddy-like dress beneath it. “Oh finally, we’ve been wondering when it’d finally happen.”

“Um… when what would happen, miss?” Jim’s eyes flicker down for just a moment, trying hard to look her just in the face despite her bustier making everything… very appealing. Sam is both jealous and intrigued, through she shakes away the thought.

“Oh, hah!” She snorts, “Listen to that- ‘miss’!” She puts her hands on her hips, “Now, let’s get this temple shakin’!”

“For what, if you don’t mind me asking?” Jim interrupts, the rest of the crew present shifting uneasily on their feet. 

“For you mortals! Finally accepting reality and coming back to the Gods. Duh!” She snorts, already whisking herself up the stairs and back into the temple with bouncing blonde curls before she’s suddenly gone in a flash of light. Apollo huffs, enraged she stole the spotlight, but following her in none the less and disappearing in the same way.

“So… Apollo, Aphrodite… Being honest here, that’s not at all what I was picturing for Greek Gods,” Sam says, watching the ‘Gods’ walk further into the temple. 

“You don’t think these people are serious do you?” Leonard sighs, crossing his arms. 

“If he is Apollo, then I am the Tsar of all Russia,” Chekov huffs, earning a ‘Mr. Chekov’ from the Captain with a deep scowl.

“Well… regardless, if they’re the ones holding the ship,” Jim drags a hand through his hair, “it’s not as though we have the option to say no?”

 

Bodies without faces mill in the halls, lute music pouring over them from seemingly nowhere. In a larger room, some mill about together, others gesturing at each other from pillows on the floor. Thrones sit against the wall, Apollo whisking away to his at the far end and immediately getting covered in faceless beings. One brushes past Sam, hand reaching out a little too close for her comfort. As they follow Aphrodite, she grabs the crook of Leonard’s arm, pulling herself closer to him. 

“Come!” Aphrodite bellows, smacking a person’s arm as they brush past her. The body staggers, but continues on.

“Who are all these people?” Sam asks, “Other gods?”

“Pft, not a chance,” Aphrodite crows as she sinks into a plush couch, “They’re not real or anything, just some models, ya know? Blank headed and they do _everything_ that we ask for.”

The wink she gives Sam unsettles her in the very least, but that’s less unsettling than the sudden flash of light to her side and a leather clad man storming through the space.

Aphrodite sighs as she drapes herself in her own throne, kicking her long legs up over the arm of the chair. Jim’s eyes look across her bare legs, looking up at the ‘tsk’ she utters through a wide smirk.

“See something you like?” She asks, Jim’s eyes snapping up to her face.

“Uh…” He clears his throat, “What exactly is going on here?” He looks around. One of the models drops a glass into his hand, whisking past to drop one each into Leonard’s and Sam’s hands. 

“How long have you been on this planet?” Sam asks as a blank faced woman hands her a glass of sweet smelling… something? It swirls in her glass like syrup, the color is closer to molasses than merlot. 

“Ugh, a couple thousand years, at the very least,” She dramatizes by throwing her head back, “You mortals weren’t exactly fun when you stopped believing in us.”

“We still don’t believe in them,” Leonard murmurs against the rim of his cup as he takes a whiff, crinkling his nose momentarily before he fakes taking a sip.

“Did you say something over there, sweetheart?” Aphrodite snarks through a terse smile. Leonard thins his lips into a line.

“No, ma’am,” He says, peaking over at Sam. Her heart skips a beat, still tilting her cup against her lips. She makes the mistake of letting it slip into her mouth, instantly regretting it as pure alcohol fills her mouth and gums up between her teeth. It makes her eyes water, and that’s saying something coming from a woman who could down a full bottle of just about anything. She struggles to swallow it down, instantly feeling the pleasant buzz of the alcohol in the pit of her stomach.

“That really packs a punch,” She coughs, pulling the glass from her lips.

“Yeah, we love the stuff,” Aphrodite sighs, taking a long swig from her own glass, “When we first got here and started making wine, this just sorta happened to it! I think it turned out for the better though. I’m glad you like it!”

Faceless models whisk Chekov and Scotty away into the crowd, trying to talk at them but nothing comes out. Chekov makes the mistake of taking down a swig, sputtering a moment before he manages to cough his way to breathing again. Leonard still looks skeptically down at the drink, not bringing it back up and subconsciously scooting closer to Sam. Aphrodite sees it, but just smirks. “Oh, I think we’re all going to have so much fun. It’s not just yourselves, right? Like, you five aren’t the only ones traveling this far away from Earth?”

“No, our crew is still up on the ship, 430 in total,” Jim informs her, clasping his hands around his cup but not moving to drink.

“Eeee!” She squeals, “Oh, so many connections in there!”

“Excuse me?” Jim frowns at her.

“I guess we’ll have to set about creating places for you all down here,” The blonde sighs, “It’ll be hard to rule over you if you’re all floating around up there.”

“Wait a moment…” Jim protests, the crewmen shifting nervously, with the exception of Sam who could almost call herself drunk on just one swig. Goddamn, does it feel good after the eye-watering burn fades away. “You don’t think we’re going to stay here… right?”

“Uh… duh?” She shrugs, jewelry rattling as she snaps to look at him, “Why else would you be all the way out here if you aren’t looking for us?”

“We’re out here looking for new civilizations–“

“Boring!” She sighs, getting up from her throne and gliding down the step, “Look, Captain, this place is definitely better than anything out there. So much to do, so much to discover.” She grins as she passes Leonard, stopping before Sam. She frowns at the heavy clothing on the woman, “Ugh, I feel bad for you. Don’t the let you have any femininity at all?”

“They… why should that matter?” Sam raises her brow at her. Aphrodite scoffs, snapping her fingers. 

A model strides over, flower in hand that Aphrodite snaps up. With a sly smirk, she slips it behind her ear, “Much better.” She turns and parts through the models, “Now, we should get the rest of you settled down here.”

“Aphrodite, we really can’t stay,” Jim urges.

“You should though-“

“Mom?” A male voice calls into the temple, sounding so familiar to Sam as she takes another sip of the liquid. Phantom voices and faces in her mind thankfully fade to black as she blinks, barely stopping herself from downing the glass. That would probably send her into a coma. 

“In here, Cupie! You should get in here, we have guests!” She calls, not giving a damn that she cuts Kirk off when he tries to talk again. Sandals slap on the ground and Sam looks up to the entrance and she has to do a double take and make sure Leonard hadn’t suddenly transported to the doorway. Or bleached his hair.

“Guests…?” The shirtless man freezes in the doorway, hand paused carding through his blond hair, “I… how are you here?”

“Which one, Cupid?” Aphrodite raises a brow at her son, looking around the group before her eyes land on Sam, “Oh… oh shiiiiiiiiiiit, how did I not see that?”

“What?” Sam licks her lips nervously, looking between the two Gods and Leonard frowning at the man in the doorway. Leonard’s eyes scan the man like a blond double of himself. Jim can’t stop staring at the lack of shirt and the leather skirt. 

“Psyche?” Cupid can’t help but ask, hopefulness painful in his voice, “I thought… I thought you left us… left me…” He strides closer.

“I um… I don’t think I am who you’re thinking of,” Sam shakes her head.

“But you must be, it has to be you!” He insists stepping closer to her, his wings ruffling on his back and catching her eye. “I would know those eyes anywhere.”

Jealousy flares in McCoy’s chest, hands clutching at his sides and barely keeping himself from pulling Sam away as his doppelgänger stands in front of her. 

“Ah…” she furrows her brow as he takes her hand and in a small flash of light, they’re gone. Like beaming but much… lighter, like a wash of bubbles against her skin. “Woah, hey!”

“Oh, Psyche,” he cries out as he pulls her to his chest, her cheek pressing to his warm skin, “God, you have no idea how much I missed you.”

“U-uh, really, I think you’ve got the wrong gal,” She urges, but when she looks up, she just sees those eyes. Like Leonard pouting down at her and it makes her heart clench. God, if Leonard had any modicum of innocence in his being, this is what it would be like. Also if he were more tan… and blond… and more buff. Sam blinks herself back into reality, but she doesn’t manage to get another word out before his lips catch onto hers.

Slow and gentle, Cupid cradles her close to his chest, hand cupping against the back of her neck as they kiss. Sam blinks, caught in a daze and just having to repeatedly open her eyes to make sure she’s not just day dreaming that it was just Leonard kissing her again, or imagining it was. Because she can’t tell the difference between them. 

Cupid makes a soft noise as he steps closer to her, all but lifting her up against him as his wings flutter. Sam gasps against his mouth, hands latching on his shoulders as he deepens the kiss. She pulls away just as his tongue swipes at her lower lip, her face burning, among other things. 

“I… I thought you were gone, baby, I…” His voice chokes in his throat, “I thought you returned to the cosmos.”

“I’m really sorry, Cupid,” Sam presses her hands to his shoulders, the blond taking that as a cue to lower her to the ground, “I really think you’ve got the wrong woman. My name is Sam Hatfield, I’m a member of the USS Enterprise crew.”

“That can’t be– you,” He searches her face, desperation plain in his voice, “You look exactly like her.” 

“I’m really, really sorry,” Sam curls her arms back around herself as she steps back, knowing the awful kind of pain that could be. Cupid’s shoulders droop, his hand carding through his hair again as he takes a seat on the edge of a bed that Sam only just realized she’s standing next to, bed sheets tossed aside and the room thick with incense. 

——

Back in the center of the temple, Leonard looks around the room frantically, “Where’d he take her?”

“Oh, cool your jets,” Aphrodite rolls her eyes, “I thought I taught her a lesson when she decided to join the cosmos. But she’ll be fine. Most likely.”

“Aphrodite, what do you want from us?” Jim demands,” Mr. Chekov, contact the ship.”

“That won’t be any good, stud-muffin,” Aphrodite all but purrs, Jim’s expression souring, “And all we want are some mortals to rule over again! Like the good old days. You know a goddess can’t really live without a bit of praise every now and again.”

“Keptain, the communicator is not connecting with the Enterprise, sir,” Chekov reports, his communicator nothing but static as Apollo laughs from the bar and his crowd of faceless models.

“Oh, we don’t allow those to work,” Apollo tosses back a sludge like drink. “Your kid really took a shine to that girl, didn’t he?”

“Eh, just because she looked a bit like his wife,” Aphrodite sighs and whisks herself to her feet, Leonard’s shoulders going rigid.

“Where the hell did he take her?” He demands, the goddess looking him right in the face with a wide smirk.

“Why?” She taunts, looking him over and sauntering his way. “Got a little pang in your heart, sweet thing?”

“ _Excuse_ me?” Leonard back peddles right into denial, straightening his back. Jim steps between the two, a hand on McCoy’s shoulder telling him to stand down, but he doesn’t move. 

“Listen, you wanted worshippers, but all you’re getting here is enemies,” He growls,” I can tell you now, we aren’t going to bow down without a fight.”

“Ugh, I forgot free will was such a hit among you mortals,” Aphrodite growls under her breath. 

——

“I apologize for my forwardness,” Cupid says quietly after a silence passes between them, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” She says empathetically, sitting on the edge of the bed with him. She sets a hand on his shoulder, hesitating to rub his shoulder when his eyes snap up to hers. 

He gives her a solemn smile, resting his hand over hers, “She didn’t… she didn’t exactly die. I dunno, it’s really weird, it kinda hurts my head to think about it too much. Probably why I haven’t joined the cosmos myself.”

“That actually sounds pretty nice,” Sam sighs, pushing a strand of hair out of her face.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Cupid says, shaking out his wings, “Then again, I wouldn’t exactly know since we don’t hear from them after they leave.”

Sam pets across his shoulder with the pad of her thumb, her head resting against his arm for a couple of heart beats. 

“Sorry for taking you away from your friends,” Cupid continues to apologize, Sam shaking her head.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m thankful you didn’t just kiss me in front of them all,” her stomach knots at the thought of that, “That probably wouldn’t have gone well.”

“What makes you say that?” Cupid asks, taking a hold of her hand from his shoulder.

“Oh, nothing really,” Sam shakes her head.

“It’s the man in the blue, right?” He asks, Sam’s eyes snapping up to his.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” She denies, fiddling with the flower behind her ear.

“Oh, c’mon,” He snorts, “I’m the God of Love. This isn’t exactly something you can hide from me.” 

She purses her lips, “I wouldn’t exactly say it’s love…”

“Affection can lead many places,” He advises. “If you’re stuck here, don’t let my mother toy around with that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” She frowns at the odd warning. The rush of bubbles tickles her skin as the flash of light blinks her back into the main room of the temple. She jerks herself up from the chair, coming back into the room right as Aphrodite calls Leonard a ‘sweet thing’. Her knotting stomach continues to churn, reaching out to touch his shoulder. Leonard jumps as she get his attention, his hand latching onto hers. Cupid eyes their hands, the way the brunet’s eyes meet Sam’s and almost instantly calm. With a sigh, Cupid steps up to his mother.

“What’s going on here, mom?” He crosses his arms over his chest. His voice lacks the same drawl as Leonard’s, but it wigs the brunet out nonetheless. That’s actually worse than the wings sprouting from mounds of tan skin in his back. It’s too uncanny.

“Ugh, mortals are so annoying! Why do they have to be self-aware!” She stamps her foot, Cupid looking much older tempered than the goddess. “I just want a good bit of fun with them!”

“Mom, these people have lives,” he tries to reason with her, his eyes flickering over to Sam. She gives him the smallest of smiles before the God of Love turns back to the Goddess of Beauty. “You seem to have enough fun with the fake ones. Not like they can protest.”

“But it’s not the same, Cupie!” She whines, bunching up sheer fabric in her fists. 

“But what they lack you’re complaining about right now?” He says, obviously annoyed as he starts having to play the adult in the situation, “Maybe give them faces, influence a personality. Make it feel the same but… made in your ideals?” 

“Nah, they’re better without personality,” Apollo calls from the bar, two faceless women hanging off of his arms.

“Yeah, but you preferred to not look at the mortal’s faces when they had them,” Cupid gripes over his shoulder, “Plus, if we have these mortals, who knows what sorts of tricks Ares is going to pull on them.”

Aphrodite huffs, her arms crossing over her chest and almost pushing herself right out of her bustier. As she thinks for a couple of moments, her anger begins to concede, “Well… I guess you do have a point there. Who knew you had such a brain?” 

Cupid sputters as she reaches out to pinch at his cheek, “Mom! Don’t.” He whines in the same tone as his mother, who turns to the mortals with a sigh.

“Well, I guess it’s your lucky day, mortals,” She exclaims, clapping her hands together, “Apollo, drop your hand from their ship. While I love riling up Ares on the day to day, I am not giving him a chance to bring about another Xena Warrior Princess situation.”

Their communicators crackle to life, Uhura and Spock’s voice frantically calling through multiple channels. Jim picks up one, Scotty picking up the other, demanding immediate transportation.

“Oh! And Psyche!” Aphrodite shouts across the commands, Sam looking away from Leonard in surprise, “If you ever come near my son again after you left him–“

“Mom, chill out,” Cupid elbows her side, “She’s not Psyche, I just… I over reacted.”

Aphrodite blinks looking over Sam as they begin to sparkle away in the transporter’s beam. “Nah, she had me fooled…” 

Just before they’re entirely gone, Sam gives Cupid the smallest of solemn smiles, which he returns with a beaming grin. And Leonard definitely catches it, new anger already simmering in his stomach.

—

Leonard’s hand still clutches onto hers as they materialize in the transporter room, Spock and Uhura waiting for them expectantly. Hoping the others hadn’t noticed, Sam draws her hand away from McCoy’s, clasping them tightly behind her back.

“Mr. Spock, get us the hell out of this sector,” Kirk orders, “I want to get as far away from here, before I get called ‘stud-muffin’ again.”

“Yes, Captain,” Spock nods, pulling up his communicator to relay to the bridge.

“Stud-muffin?” Uhura snorts.

“I’m not kidding.”

McCoy waits just a moment before he tromps down the stairs of the transporter, past the three and striding right down the hall, simmering with anger. Feeling it like static in the air, Sam quickly darts after him. “Leonard…?” 

He grunts a response as he steps into a turbolift. Sam manages to skid in through the door right before it closes, bumping right into his side. She apologizes below her breath, scooting away. Leonard crosses his arms over his chest, staring ahead at the doors. Something in his mind knows it’s ridiculous, but he can’t stop the jealousy burning in the pit of his stomach. Neither of them notice the flower behind her ear spitting out a fine mist, an odd, warm feeling pooling in her chest. Leonard just chalks it up to his jealousy.

“Leonard?” She asks as the turbolift slows to a stop, Leonard pushing past her and striding down the hall. She skips along behind him, “Hey, talk to me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just assumed you had your eyes set on something better,” He growls, more voraciously than he meant.

“Excuse me?” She forces him to face her, “And why would you assume that?”

“I saw that smile he gave you,” he spits, “Sorry I’m not a God or anything, but-“ 

“Stop that thought right there,” Her stomach burns with the remnants of the alcohol and the spores fusing with her system, “A smile tells you nothing. Where the hell is this coming from?”

“Looks can tell a lot about that,” He defends, trying to inch back away towards his quarters so he could punch a wall and drink for a while in peace. “If I’m not good enough for you, then you better say it now-“

He doesn’t finish that thought before she clutches onto his shirt, taking advantage of his slumped posture to smash her lips against his. He staggers for only a moment, lips pulling away but Sam chases him, pressing up to her tiptoes. Their teeth bump against each other’s momentarily before a rhythm settles between them. Eyes closing tightly, Leonard steers them against the wall, his hand cupping her cheek and the other pulling her flush against him. A rabid burning clutches them, unable to remove their hands from each other. Her hands clutch at the front of his tunic, only letting go to drag a hand through his hair. They both jump at the sound of the turbolift door opening, luckily no one moving to get on with them. The world is foggy around them, arousal thick in the air.

“My quarters, babe?” She asks, licking her lips. 

His only answer is catching her lips in a needy kiss, leg pushing between hers and grinding against her. Need fills their heads like a fog, Leonard lifting her against him without any strain. Sam yelps, her legs wrapping around his waist and pushing her tunic up her waist. She groans low in her throat, nuzzling into the nook of his neck as Leonard guides them down another couple of doors and into her room without issue.

The instant the door closes, he presses her back up against the wall, her lips peppering across his jaw and neck. She leans back up to catch his lips, groaning against him as he presses her tighter against the wall with a slow grind of his hips. A moan catches in her throat, desperately grinding back against him. There’s a wordless urgency as his hands rip her tunic over her head, mouthing at her skin as more is uncovered. 

She whines, hips rolling against him as he sucks red marks into her collar bone, working down her chest. Her hands grip at his tunic, struggling to tug it off of him. Kissing along her jaw and stepping away from the wall, he lets her down to her feet and quickly whisks her away towards the bed. The first thing Sam does is rip the hairband from the end of her braid and shaking out her plait-curled hair, the flower falling to the ground with another puff of pollen.

A pleased growl rumbles in Leonard’s throat, threading his hand through her hair. She lets out a soft gasp as he tugs, not exactly meaning to but when he’s about to apologize, she groans, “Ngh, harder.”

He growls possessively, complying happily with a firm tug on her hair, drawing another moan that shoots heat through him from head to toe.

“Ngh, fuck yes,” She groans, “God, please touch me, Leonard.” 

He happily obliges, practically tearing her pants and undergarments from her body. A voice in the back of his head wants him to stop and admire her, but every nerve in his body wants _more._ He easily lifts her onto the bed, Sam sprawling across her sheets and spreading his legs for him. Every inch of her skin burns with need, watching him hungrily as he tears away his pants. His hands grasp at her hips as he crowds over her, the kissing more tongue and teeth than lips. Sam’s legs curl around his hips without hesitation, head throwing back against his sheets as his hard length grinds against her thigh. 

“Fuck, Leonard,” she groans, dragging her nails across the back of his neck as he sucks bright red marks against her skin. “Please, please.”

“Ngh, Sam,” He grunts against her skin. His hands paint across her body, wanting to tick down every scar and blemish, but they vanish instantly in his mind. Everything pulses, rationality flying out the window as his tup brushes against her soaking entrance. Not entirely expecting it, Sam gasps out, spreading her legs wider for him. “Like that, huh darlin’?” 

“Leonard!” She whines, need breaking her down into pleading, “Please, Leonard, I need you, I want you–“

“Please what?” He kisses back up to the the crook of her neck, mouthing at her skin, “C’mon Sam, you’ve gotta tell me what you want.” He growls, Sam almost seeing stars just from that.

“F-Fuck me!” she pleads loudly. Leonard purrs against her skin, pushing into her tight sex. Pleasure enraptures his body, unable to stop himself from pushing all the way in. Scrabbling for purchase, her hands grasp at his shoulders, legs tightening around him. The only coherent word on her lips is ‘Leonard’ as he begins to thrust into her, his lips mouthing across whatever skin he can reach. 

Leonard’s head swims, dragging his hands across her skin over and over. As she rolls her hips against his, he refuses to close his eyes. He watches every twitch and move of her body, hands caressing over her skin, those sharp moans and gasps flooding his head. Pride bubbles over the blinding pleasure– he’s the one to do this to her. She’s all his.

The coil begins to tighten as their pace picks up, Leonard desperately rutting against her and Sam stretching to take him deeper. Her arms hook around his neck, clutching onto him like a lifeline as every thrust shoots electricity through her body, fire catching in her lungs and gasping against his lips. His hand threads into her hair, tugging more moans from her mouth and thrusting harder up into her, hitting just the right spot.

“Oh, fuck! Leonard!” She all but screams as he pounds into that one spot. Her hands scrabble for purchase on his shoulders, warmth flooding her body before it breaks. She clamps down around him, body spasming as white hot pleasure floods her, her hips still rutting against him through her orgasm.

“God, Sam!” He grunts, his nails digging into her hipbones as his own orgasm sneaks up on him, hips sputtering up against hers and greedily trying to drag her close to him. Sam smashes her lips against his, his hand fisting in her hair and pulling them flushed together in a puddle of sweat against the bed. Their kiss fades from desperation to languid passion, Sam flushed head to toe as she pulls away with dazed eyes. His chest tightens as he possessively bites across her skin, an animalistic haze refusing to leave. After a couple minutes of panting against each other, the arousal sparks again between them– Sam is more than happy to oblige it. 

—

Sam doesn’t even open her eyes when she wakes up, fisting her hand in her hair. _Everything_ hurts, her hips screaming and her skin burning. She struggles to move, but arms anchor her back against someone's chest, head nuzzling into the junction of her neck and shoulder. He groans and mouths at her neck, that small touch pooling arousal in her stomach. A whine catches in her throat, trying to rip herself through the almost primal need to rut against him. Chewing on her lip, her body shakes as she turns over in his grasp.

Something in his half-awake mind tells him that the woman in his arms is his, arms tightening around her as she tries to leave. When she settles, his arms loosen, but his mind is awake, trying to tear through the animalistic haze. Sam’s hands rest on Leonard’s chest, scanning his face with wide eyes. Everything comes back crystal clear, every moment of rough fucking– the memory of his moans, his face as he came makes her shiver with pleasure. She scrubs her face in her palm.

“God, what the hot-diggity shit…?” She groans at herself. Leonard grunts, finally opening his eyes and immediately meeting hers.

His mouth goes dry, arms going rigid around her. Screenshots of last night pour in over him, arousal stirring up, but God does his dick hurt. Everything feels weak and sticky as he pushes himself up on the bed. Sam moves back to the edge, making a face as something slick leaks down her thigh. 

“Are you okay…?” Leonard croaks, struggling to keep his eyes from wandering down her body. Bite marks and scratches connect between scars, marking her for himself– he forces his brain to shut up.

"I think so...?" She pushes herself to sit up, shuddering as more leaks out of her, "I feel disgusting, I'm uh... gonna wash off real quick."

His chest clenches awfully as she slides off the bed, "Uh right."

"You can use it after me...?" She suggests in the doorway, tucking her loose hair behind her ear.

"Yeah," He squashes down the thought of joining her. She gives him a small smile as the door closes, leaving Leonard alone in her quarters.

The small metal bar implanted in her back intrigues him– he remembers her telling him was it was a stupid mistake from her 20’s, an adornment she thought looked cool and then never had the money to get it removed. And he didn’t dare ask about the network of fading scars, especially with how often she moved his fingers away from them. Instead of dwelling on it, he starts examining her room. 

The only part of it that looks lived in is the bed, covers and pillows tossed every which way. There are some clothes on the floor but half of those are his. No adornments on the walls, no items on the desk other than a beaten-up shoebox, well worn on the corners and one of the sides of the lid sticking straight out. A printed picture sticks out the slightest amounts, taunting him to pick it up. The sound of the refresher keeps going as he inches closer, the curiosity overpowering him. As the picture slips out, he recognizes the small girl’s face.

Wide green eyes shine up at him from the photo, a small girl with a wide smile missing one of her incisors. A younger Sam beams up at the camera too, carrying the child easily on her hip, their wind-tousled hair blown back by a wind rolling off the sea behind them. Scars still peak out from the sleeves of Sam’s shirt in the picture, some brighter pink than others. At the white border, her handwriting is a neat mix between cursive and print, ‘Pammy, 4 y.o.’. His heart twists in his chest as he thinks about what that could mean, but the ‘fresher shutting off forces his eyes away from the photo. He slips it back into the edge of the shoebox, settling back down on the edge of the bed.

—

Sam rolls her shoulders as she steps out of the fresher, patting herself dry and picking up her locket. She presses a kiss to the braided gold casing, a habit she keeps as she slips it back around her neck. With her towel slung low on her hips she walks back out into her bedroom, “Your turn, sweetheart.”

“Thanks,” She catches a tense note to his voice, Leonard stopping for a moment as though he was about to ask her something, but he just slips past into the bathroom. She purses her lips at the closing door. This was the danger of letting people too close, the concern nips at her stomach. It was just this whole situation, the awkwardness forcing a rift between them. As she pulls out her hairbrush from her desk, the picture falls back out, definitely having been stowed more securely into the box last she recalled. Her thumb brushes some dust away from the child's face, her heart clutching in her chest. She just stares, finger passing over her girls cheek over and over.

"Sam?" Leonard asks, his hands resting on her shoulders. She jumps, one of her hands clutching at his wrist painfully tight before she realizes it was just him. Sagging against his touch, she sighs. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," she lets go of his wrist, settling her hand over his instead," Just fine." 

"Would you mind if I asked...?" He looks down at the picture, Sam's heart twisting again.

"That's... my little girl," she says, her throat catching before it could come out as more than a whisper. She opens her mouth, struggling to correct herself," Was. Was my little girl."

Leonard feels sick to his stomach, frozen as he tries to imagine losing Johanna. God it was a bad idea to ask, the awkward air in the room sinking faster. He doesn't say anything as he pulls her into a tight embrace, his hand cupping at the back of her neck. She doesn't clutch onto him, no true sorrow left in her, just a permeating numbness. She rests her forehead against his warm chest, "Today's been... quite a day.”

"It's officially tomorrow,” Leonard says after looking at the clock on the wall that says 0645. Just in time for alpha shift too. He strokes through her hair, "I'm uh... I'm really sorry."

"It's the past," she looks down at the picture in her hand, slipping it back into the box. The gold compact rocks from its spot behind the box, tucking that away too. Turning back to look at him, she frowns, "About all this…?"

"It's okay," He backs down, stepping away despite wanting to do nothing more than step closer, "This was a little... faster than I was thinking to be honest."

"A little," Sam agrees, leaning against her desk and brushing through her hair. Both jump as there's a knock on the door, Jim's voice coming through the door.

"Hey, Sam? I know it's um, a little early, but have you seen Bones?" Both of them curse and scramble for clothing.

"God, if I go out that door, Jim's never going to let me live it down," Leonard hisses.

"Hide in the bathroom,” Sam whispers, just tugging her black uniform shirt over her head and a pair of plaid pj pants from her floor, "I don't think you'll fit beneath the desk."

He picks up both of his shirts and closes the bathroom door behind him, Sam fiddling with her rings as she answers the door.

"Hm?" She opens the door, keeping her eyes half open in feigned sleepy-annoyance.

"I... Have you seen McCoy? He's not in his quarters," He asks, looking over her shoulder. He just figures she's a fidgety sleeper at the sprawl of the sheets. She’s thankful for the A/C system for flushing the room of any humidity or stench of anything unsavory. "And no one's seen him since we beamed back aboard."

"I haven't but I'll keep my eyes out," she drawls, leaning against the door, "If you'll excuse me, Captain, gotta get ready for my shift."

“Of course," He gives her a terse smile as he steps away, letting her close the door. Leonard heaves a sigh and opens the door, already dressed and his hair hanging in his face.

"Thanks, darlin," He cant help himself as he steps closer to her. It catches her off guard, but she steps closer.

"Yeah..." She doesn't know when it started, but warm affection curls in her chest as she places her hands on his, "Good luck dealing with him?"

"Thanks, I'm gonna need it," He rests his hands on her hips. They hesitate, eyes focusing on each other's as they lean in for a chaste kiss. As they pull away, Leonard can't help the small smile. "Will I see you around?"

"Yeah," They hesitate near the door again, sharing another kiss before the door closes between them. Once she's alone, she sags down onto her bed. Despite the pain in her hips and the pleasant ache, she forces herself to get ready for work. Worry nips at her, but she pushes it away; nothing has ever come from nights like this in the past.

Leonard drifts down the hall to his room even though he feels like he got hit by a truck, aiming on fixing his hair before heading up to his shift. The instant he steps in the door, he freezes, Jim waiting for him at his desk with a Cheshire grin.

"So," he gets up from his chair, "How was your night?"

"Fine?" Leonard shrugs, moving to the bathroom.

"Where were you?" Jim follows, leaning against the doorway.

"Around," is the best lie he can come up with, fixing his hair quickly, "How'd you get into my room anyways?"

"Scotty let me in," He shrugs. Leonard glares at the closed door at the other end of his shared bathroom. That traitor. "C'mon, Bones, just tell me!"

"No," He pushes past him to his closet, "Get out so I can change in peace."

Jim flops back down on the edge of the bed, "Just change? I don't care, and you haven't cared before?"

Leonard growls, yanking a tunic off a hanger. His face burns as he storms right back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He throws his clothes into his hamper, all but jumping into clean pants. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, turning to look at the dark red scratches across his shoulders. His neck and shoulders are covered in bite marks. 

"Aye, who attacked you?" Scotty asks, letting himself into their bathroom. Leonard definitely doesn't yelp, not a chance.

"No one," He shoves his shirt on over his head, "I swear if you let Kirk into my quarters again, you're getting an early physical."

Scotty laughs nervously, "Uh huh. We were concerned."

"Right," McCoy runs a hand through his hair, "Last time, okay?"

"Right," Scotty lies, grabbing something from his side of the bathroom and walking out. He brushes past Kirk, picking up his PADD and marching towards the turbo loft, eyeing Sam's door as they pass. He doesn’t notice Jim’s growing smirk, but he sure as hell does when they step into the turbolift.

“The hell is that face for?” He demands, pressing deck 7.

“You should tell her to bite lower next time,” The younger man smirks wider, especially as Leonard’s eyes widen and clasps a hand over the side of his neck, “It’s under your ear.”

“Dammit,” He curses, “Look, Jim, it’s not –“

“I’m happy for ya, Bones,” Kirk smacks McCoy’s shoulder before he can backpedal into denial about it, “She’ll do you some good.”

He sputters, staggering out of the turbolift, Jim quickly fleeing to the bridge. He manages to make it to his office without much more issue, dragging his hand over his face as he tries to push past the memories and the head-to-toe ache to get some work done. But every time, he can’t help the smile on his face. 


	7. Late December

_"Prez, how far out do you think they are?" Sam pants, back pressing to the back of a wet cliff. She huffs as her hair sticks to her cheek, tossing her head to get it out of her face. She shrieks as her hand looses its grip, scrabbling for a new handhold. The world phases in and out in the fog and rain like static on a radio._

_"How should I know?" A female voice calls back at her," Just fucking move!"_

_A whine catches in her throat, weak legs shaking as she shimmies along the rock face. Rain pelts at her back, the rock slick under her bare feet. "I don't... I don't think I can."_

_"C'mon Sam, you're gonna come in last," a male voice mocks her. Screams echo beneath them on the cliffs, panic pushing her up the wall. Sam’s feet slip as she jumps up to the next handhold. Wind howls past as she pulls herself over the edge, gear jingling on her hip. She pants on her hands and knees, hearing the boots on the ground. She tries to look up and– WHACK!_

Sam screams, limbs flailing out in every direction as she joins the covers on the floor. Someone else groans, stuck in panic mode, she jumps back up as quick as she can. Her heart feels like its pounding out of her chest, it isn’t stopping, not slowing down. Leonard groans, holding his nose in his hands and lucky it’s not bleeding from the knock her elbow gave him. She freezes, still sweating from panic and itching to get herself alone. Those two voices rattle around in her head. Leonard asks if she’s okay, but her face doesn’t even twitch. 

“Sam?” She jumps again when he lifts her hand away from violently twisting her rings around her finger. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“It’s nothing,” She chokes out, feeling the back of her throat close up, “I–I–“

“This isn’t nothing, Sam,” He frowns, getting up and placing his hands on her hips. She twitches, wishing he hadn’t– it’s nauseatingly close, almost entrapping. "C'mon, what's wrong?"

"Leonard, don't," She steps back, arms curling tight around herself. Her stomach flips, feeling bile rise in her throat, but she swallows it down,” I, I just need to go clear my head." 

Disappointment curls in his chest and he drops his hands in defeat. “Sam, this is the third time this week. If this is how often it normally happens, then I can help–“

“I’m. Fine!” Sam yells defensively, Leonard freezing in his spot. “You can’t fix everything, I just need some damn space, okay!?”

Despite the guilt in her chest, she shoves her feet into her boots, storming out of his quarters without looking back or stopping to grab her uniform. He’s just left there on the edge of his bed, head reeling from whatever that just was. Sagging down onto his bed, he scrubs his hands over his face. The clock mocks him from the wall, barely an hour after they’d fallen asleep. When he lays down, his concern battles away the exhaustion. His hand pushes through his hair over and over, knowing that going over there would probably end up breaking the already tentative connection they have. 

On and off over the past couple of weeks, she’d show up on his doorstep, and she’d run right away with his heart in hand. And he’s pretty sure she’s still got it clutched in her grasp a few doors down. Frustrated, he forces himself back down into bed, but sleep doesn’t come. 

—

After a long pitstop heaving over her toilet, Sam twists the rings off of her fingers and tosses them on her desk before fleeing away to the mess hall, even though the taste of puke is still fresh on her tongue. They almost feel haunted, the constant reminder dragging her down whenever she has these episodes. Flopping down into the chair, Sam can’t get comfortable. Not just the pestering ghosts of voices in her head, her entire soul itches. Ignoring her coffee, Sam’s fingernails tap on the table top in front of her, her mind a marathon with no finish line. 

Ever since that night with Leonard, something felt… off. Like something was wrong, or was about to go wrong. With Christmas being tomorrow, there aren’t any planned off-ship excursions other than a pit stop at a Starbase a few days after, so there’s nothing that she can think of that could go wrong. In the silence of the mess hall, she can’t stop thinking about it. This crawling panic hadn’t stopped since she and Leonard had fucked the first time, and the subsequent… whatever they have going for them now. 

“Mind if I sit with you, Sam?” Someone asks, Sam’s head flipping up. Uhura gives her a concerned smile.

“Uh, yeah, go for it,” Sam croaks, sipping her long-cold coffee, “How are you?”

“Alright,” She shrugs, “I’ve been translating a message we got in during gamma shift and I finally finished it. What about you?” 

“Could be better, could be worse,” Sam tugs her hand through her hair, letting it fall back around her face. The cold of the ship bothers her in just her civilian tank top and pj pants, clutching tighter at her mug. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Uhura asks, pouring creamer into her own. 

“I dunno…” Sam rests her cheek in her palm, “This past month has gotten me so high strung, and I can’t really even tell what’s causing it.”

“Well, what have you been doing differently?” She asks, “If you feel like it’s becoming a big problem, you should probably talk to McCoy, he is the ship’s psychiatrist too.”

Her lips twist, hand rubbing over her tired eyes, “I uh… he’s sort of part of the problem…”

Uhura’s sharp brows shoot up, “Really? In what way?”

“Well,” If she were in her right mind, she’d keep her mouth shut. But exhaustion always makes her overshare, “You have to promise not to say anything.”

“I promise,” She nods, leaning forward.

“We’ve been fucking since… fuck, since sometime in October? Only…?” Sam rests her chin in her hand, “And that’s the only thing that’s different, and it just… it’s nice, and he’s great, don’t get me wrong, but…It’s not going to last.” 

Uhura fights the urge to furrow her brow at the connotation of just ‘fucking’, knowing that the rest of her phrasing seems like so much more. She waits a beat before asking, “How do you know that? Is there anything that he’s done that makes you think that it won’t?”

“No, he hasn’t, but things don’t last,” Her hand itches, moving to fidget with her rings, and it bugs her when she’s met with nothing. She reaches for her coffee, but the thought makes her more nauseous, she decides against it, “They never have with me.”

“There’s always time for your luck to change?” Uhura tries to give it a hopeful spin, but Sam isn’t hearing it. 

She clutches at her locket, hearing her Pammy’s voice in the back of her head, sweet, light, darling words. After all these years, her baby’s voice is still clear as a bell, just snippets of pointless conversations.

“There’s always time,” Sam says, voice toneless, “Too much damn time.” She gulps down the rest of her disgustingly cold coffee, moving to get up. She regrets it, swallowing the coffee back down a second time, “I’m gonna to try get some sleep. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah,” Uhura gives her a concerned look, noticing that small hiccup in her body motion, “Are you okay?”

“Fine… just nauseous,” Sam shakes her head, “Usually happens when I pull all-nighters, I’ll be fine.”

“Hope you feel better in the morning,” Uhura offers, “Uh, oh, are you doing anything tonight?”

“Dunno yet,” She shrugs, “Why?”

“Christine, Janice and I were going to hang out if you’d like to join us?” She offers, thinking the time with other people might do her some good.

“Uh, sure?” Sam just needs the excuse to say out of Leonard’s way for now. “Just message me a time and place?”

“Definitely,” Uhura nods, watching the other woman shuffle out of the mess as other people begin to stagger in to get food before alpha shift. She sits for a while in silence, drinking her coffee slowly. 

—

It took Leonard 3 cups of crappy coffee from his own replicator to get himself to leave his quarters, stalking past Sam’s door without a glance. Half of him says he’s just being petty about her not wanting his help, but the other half wants to give her the space and let her come to him when she decides she needs him. He snorts self-depreciatingly– like she actually needs him. He steers himself into the mess hall, needing an actual cup of coffee before he can work. Uhura perks up when he walks by her table, “Good morning, Leonard.”

“Uhura,” Leonard nods, raising his mug. He didn’t even want to think about the state of his morning. “How’re you?”

“Pulled an all nighter on a message translation, but I should be fine,” She looks at the bags beneath his eyes and gets up, following him to the turbolift, “You look like you were up pretty late yourself.”

He grunts, scraping his hand over his face like it would take away the bags. “Yeah. Just lost track of the time,” he lies.

It takes a lot of willpower for her to not give him advice, to tell him she just needs time and assurance. But that would be out of place, so she settles on, “That’s unlike yourself. Is something up?”

"Not at all," he grumbles sarcastically. 

“You know you can share with me, if you’d like,” She presses, giving Christine a small glance as she walks into the Sickbay with him. He frowns at her as he steps into his office. “You can tell me, your secret's safe with me."

"Nothing happened," he flops down into the chair, rubbing his face. She purses her lips, a look that he knows he can’t escape, but continues to deny. "There is no secret, Nyota.”

"Not from what I've heard," She pushes, Leonard's eyes snapping up to hers. She knows that look, one she’s seen Jim get out of him many times, like a trapped dog, “Care to share?”

“Did you and Jim switch bodies?” he sags down into his chair, knowing he trapped himself," No one can know about this. Jim won’t let me live this down if he knows.”

“I promise my lips are sealed,” Just from Jim, she has a duty to tell Christine and Janice. 

“I just... Sam and I've spent a couple of nights together.” He scrubs his cheek, searching for the words, “It’s… It’s great, don’t get me wrong, but she doesn’t… open up.”

“Sound like anyone you know?” She jokes easily, smiling a little wider at the indignant pout she gets out of Leonard.

“Well…” He looks over at the framed picture of Joanna on his desk, itching to pick it up. He doesn’t, recalling Pammy’s green eyes from the picture on Sam’s desk, a knife twisting in his gut. “No… believe it or not, I think she’s worse than me.”

“What makes you say that?” Uhura looks down at the picture, her brows raising in shock, “You don’t mean…?”

“Yeah,” He purses his lips, “I’m going to give her some time. And get her something for her damn insomnia.”

“Don’t give her too much time though,” Uhura worries, recalling the other woman’s words earlier. “I wish you luck, Leonard.”

“Gonna need it,” He grumbles, waving back at her as she walks out of the office. And as she walks out of the Sickbay, she gives her friend and ecstatic thumbs up. 

—

The third time today with her face in the trashcan arouses some suspicion from her subordinates, and by the fifth, Hendorff is about to throw a fucking fit. She lifts her head from the trashcan to another glare, despite handing her another tissue.

“Sickbay,” He says simply, foot starting to tap on the floor.

“Lieutenant, if you say it one more time, I swear I’ll use your boot as a trashcan,” Sam groans, setting aside the trashcan almost half full of vomit. 

“Why the hell aren’t you going to Sickbay?” He asks, exasperated, “You’re obviously sick! That’s where you belong right now!”

“There are more unpleasant things awaiting me in Sickbay, not just whatever the fuck is wrong with me,” She argues. “Not going to Sickbay. Nope.”

“Lieutenant Commander, you’re not fit for duty,” Hendorff asserts, “I’m afraid as your Second in Command, I’m asking you to return to either your quarters or report to Sickbay, or else I will get the Captain involved.”

Sam’s jaw sets into a tight clench, “I…” She knows she’s in a corner, especially when her stomach wants to free the last of her hostages. “Fine. Fine, you win.”

“Sickbay–?”

“I’ll be in my quarters,” Sam says, already turning on her heel, “You’re in charge.”

“I…” Hendorff watches her retreat, sharing a look with Ensign Lundy as she wanders closer, “What the hell do you think that was about?”

“Dunno. But you should notify Sickbay,” Lundy says, crossing her arms, “And maybe call a janitor…?”

“Yeah… I’ll just tell the nurses station,” He picks up his PADD, “McCoy and M’Benga have better things to be doing with their time.”

Sam has to run to get back to her room before she pukes down the front of her uniform. Throwing her door open, she just manages to keep the carpet clean. 

“Fuck breakfast,” She curses at the meagre remnants of her bagel, curtsey of Hendorff. After downing half of her bottle of mouthwash, Sam’s feet drag as she stumbles from the bathroom. She tosses off her boots and not giving a damn where they land. Staggering for her dresser, she digs out some civvies- her only remaining old Earth band shirt that she throws on with her plaid pants. The soft fabric soothes her despite the crumbling print of Rush’s Motion Picture album and the moth holes in the hem. Comfort washes over her as she settles onto the bed, keeping her new best friend, the trash can, close by. 

—

Christine’s head perks up at the sound of the nurses station pinging, handing off another box of sterile gloves to another nurse. She preps to call in McCoy for an incoming injury, but she halts that thought when she opens the message. ‘L.C. Hatfield unfit for duty, returning to quarters. Send someone to check on her, dehydration risk.’ Her lips pull into a tight line, having heard the short of the ordeal this morning from Uhura. Taking a deep breath, she picks up a tricorder and wanders over to McCoy’s office. On the sheer lack of sleep, Leonard can barely keep his eyes open, especially reading through a new regulation. When she knocks on the door, he shoots up, trying to make it look like he was obviously awake the entire time. 

“I’m going to check on a crew member at their quarters, reported sick to their post,” She says, trying to keep it vague.

He frowns, “Send the report to me afterwards.”

“Yes’sir,” She nods, turning her back to him. She almost jogs down to the turbolift, hoping she doesn’t catch Sam at the wrong time. Double checking with the record of her room number, she presses the door pad, letting it ring for a moment. 

Inside the room, Sam’s head lifts from the pillow, pulling out of the odd haze of exhaustion and panic. With a groan, she gets up, shuffling towards the door. It slides open, Sam leaning heavily against the jam and raising a brow at the blonde standing primly before her, “Christine? What can I do for you?”

“Hendorff reported a dehydration risk, he requested a nurse to come check on you,” She explains, patting her tricorder for emphasis, “May I come in?”

“Uh… yeah, sure,” Sam scrubs the side of her face, stepping back to allow the other woman in.

“Thanks,” Christine passes Sam and sets her tricorder on the desk. Pammy’s picture rests on top of the box with her rings, catching the other woman’s eye but she doesn’t dwell on it. If Sam wants, she can bring it up. “So, what exactly has been going on?”

“Nausea, mostly. I’ve been trying to keep up with it,” True, but not as well as she could be. Sam gestures to the water bottle on her bed. Her heart still won’t stop racing, a constant discomfort.

“How long has this been going on for?” Christine asks, setting up the tricorder.

“Only since yesterday,” Lie, at least 3 days, “Probably ate something the replicator spat out wrong.”

“Right,” Christine believes her, “Still I’m going to need to run some tests– just things I can do with the tricorder. Make sure it’s nothing contagious.”

“Of course,” Sam watches the nurse pick up the tricorder and step closer.

Christine lifts up the small sensor in front of Sam’s face, her vitals popping up and instantly setting off a red flag. Her heartbeat’s off the chart, slightly feverish. The small icon in the bottom corner flashes, requesting further investigation into her blood chemistry, “Are you nervous about something? Your heart rate and blood pressure are above average.”

“No, it’s uh… I guess it’s been more rapid? Hadn’t noticed,” Sam gulps.

“Well… it’s telling me your blood chemistry is off, I’d need you to come up to Sickbay to get a full picture of what–“

“I’m not going to Sickbay, dammit,” Sam curses, flinching away. 

Christine doesn’t flinch, used to dealing with stubborn patients, especially the odd behavioral mix of Kirk and McCoy. “Well… okay, I can’t force you, but I will have to file everything here. I can do the test here, but if nothing comes up that points to your symptoms we will have to go up there.”

“Fine.” Sam snuffs, leaning forward. 

Switching to the circular attachment and pressing it to Sam’s cheek. It takes a second to load and analyze, but the problem comes up right away and if it weren’t for her steady hands, she would have dropped the tricorder. A heightened hCG level. Nothing else is even remotely off the mark, nothing at all. But the hCG. 

“What’s that look on your face.” Sam demands.

Christine hesitates, looking back and forth between the tricorder and Sam’s face, who’s eyes are slowly narrowing into slits. “Your… your hCG levels are elevated. Human Chorionic Gonadotropin…” She waits, Sam glowering even more. Taking a deep breath through her nose, Christine says it, “You’re pregnant.”

Sam lurches so hard like someone threw on the parking break halfway through warp. Her mouth opens and closes, gaping and reeling for air but she can’t draw it back in. Christine goes to set a hand on her shoulder, but Sam rips away from her. The floor feels like it’s shaking beneath her, like the Enterprise is about to rip in half and eat her whole. 

“I… Do you have to report this…?” Sam asks.

“I can get in a lot of trouble if I don’t,” Christine puts away the attachments. “I… It’s not my place… but is Leonard involved in this?”

Sam struggles to maintain her breathing, wanting to punch everything in sight. She opens her mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a pitiful whimper. 

“I… I’ll hold off for now,” She reboots the tricorder, clearing the data, “But promise me, you’ll come up to Sickbay about this. Sooner rather than later, for your safety.” _For both of your safety,_ she keeps herself from saying.

“Thank you, Christine,” Sam croaks. 

“Of course,” She slings the tricorder back onto her shoulder, “Are you still joining us at Uhura’s room tonight?”

“Dunno,” Sam answers honestly. 

“Right,” Christine nods, “I understand. Hope to see you there.”

Christine waits for a response but it doesn’t come– she just lets herself out, leaving Sam alone. She stands frozen in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do now. 

Her hand hesitates before lifting to rest on her lower stomach, a pose she never thought she’d find herself in again. Pammy’s picture seems to glare at her from the desk, and she barely makes it back to the toilet again. Not from the nausea this time, but disgust. With herself, with her idiocy, with this whole fucked up mess. She sits there for a long while, with her head resting on the cool metal of the toilet edge. Standing up, she moves to down a little more mouthwash before she stops herself, more guilt settling on her shoulders. She settles for toothpaste instead. 

Licking her lips, she slips on some moccasins and shuffles towards the door. But the lightness of her hand stops her, quickly picking her rings up. The silver one has engravings on it in Vulcan, and her Vulcan experience is spoken only. Same with all of her other familiar languages, except french. The golden one boasts the letters, “ _J.G.F. 2009._ ”

She shivers and slips the rings back on, all but jogging down to the lower floors to Uhura’s quarters. When she gets there, she almost considers turning around, but she knocks nonetheless. The door opens, Chapel smiling kindly, “Hey, Sam. Glad you made it.”

“Yeah,” She tries to smile, but it’s more of a thin line, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she’s allowed in, “How’re y’all doing?” 

“Pretty good,” Christine sighs, walking behind her and keeping her voice low, “How are you doing?”

“I’ll survive,” Sam says, surveying the room. 

The quarters are small, a tiny bed pushed against the wall and the rest decorated to the nines with personal mementos and Christmas lights. Janice and Uhura sit together on the floor with cups of tea, a small holoscreen playing a more recent Christmas flick. Uhura smiles at her as she takes a seat next to her.

“So, what were you talking to Leonard about this morning?” Janice asks as Christine gracefully beside her, slipping an arm around her and picking up her tea cup. Sam’s eyes dart over to Uhura, who smiles wider over the rim of her cup.

“He just seemed stressed and I was more than willing to lend an ear,” She shrugs, giving Sam a knowing glance, “And for once, it’s not about Jim.”

“Who’s it about?” Janice asks, leaning closer into Christine’s side.

“He didn’t say,” Uhura lies, Sam heaving a small sigh of relief. Christine decides to play along, there’s nothing wrong. 

“You know, I’m not surprised in the slightest,” Christine elbows Sam, who pouts indignantly at her, “You were pretty attached to him when you were on painkillers.”

“How off my rocker was I?” Sam sighs, the smallest of terse smiles on her face. 

“Pretty far gone,” Christine says, “So, are you two actually together?”

“Together… is a bit strong of a phrase,” Sam sighs, “I dunno, I like him but it’s not going to get far. Relationships and I have never had great a great report.”

“You could always give it a chance?” Janice suggests, “You suit each other.”

Sam twists her rings on her hand, wishing they would leave her personal life alone, “I may, but like I said, my experience has never been that great.”

“I bet they weren’t that bad?” Janice says.

“Ex-husband cheated on me relentlessly, then my ex-wife pushed me out a second story window. None of ‘em lasted long,” She says with a straight toned voice. A knife twists in her gut when she thinks about the other things she could say about them.

Uhura’s lips twist more and more into a concerned pout, “Geez… well, I know for sure that Leonard wouldn’t do anything like that. He just… his concern fuels his anger most of the time.”

“I’ve noticed,” Sam sighs, “I like him... but is it worth the hurt?” Especially now that all of this is fucking up and collapsing around her. 

Christine pats her shoulder, "Just take some time to settle on it? You're both pretty stubborn, I doubt he'll be letting go any time soon."

"I've got the time..." Sam sighs, desperately wishing she'd brought along some booze. Scratch that, no booze. There goes peaceful sleeping, Sam curses at herself. 

The gals settle in to spend their Christmas Eve sipping tea and watching awful Christmas dramas, plus Bad Santa, curtesy of Sam's disk drive. But even with that, her mind doesn't stop running. With a yawn, Sam gets up to her feet, "I think I'm gonna turn in y'all."

"You sure?" Uhura asks, before she looks at the clock, "Oh damn... I've gotta be up in 4 hours."

"We'll get out of your hair," Janice says, helping Christine to her feet. "Merry Christmas you guys."

"Merry Christmas," Sam waves as she escapes into the hall, scrubbing at her eyes. Exhaustion steeps in her bones, letting her feet carry her back to the turbo lift and running straight into Leonard. "Oh!"

Leonard blinks down at her, clutching onto her arm to keep her from falling. Wordlessly, they stare at each other for a moment. Her stomach flips, a knot forming in her gut, a bundle of nervous energy. Sam thins her lips into a line, slinking her arms around his middle and holding him close. When his arms settle around her shoulders, the safety of the embrace calms her. She just needs him there. ”Want to come over...?"

"Sam..." Leonard sighs, pulling away from her to look her in the eye, "I'd love to but–"

"If you don't want to, then you don't need to make an excuse," Sam backpedals far enough to cross the English Channel. 

"No, it's not that at all," He stresses, resting his hands on her shoulders, "I'm just worried for you. I've seen how little you sleep."

"And I function that way," Sam knows it's a lie- there are some days there's more coffee in her veins than blood. Not anymore though. 

"It's not healthy," He frowns, "I've got hypos that can help with this sort of thing."

"I don't need them," Sam shrugs his hands away, "This month's just been more... recurrent, it'll calm back down eventually."

"And if it doesn't?" Leonard asks, following her out of the turbolift, "You're putting yourself in danger every day, you need to be careful. I..." The image of Jim's body bag from battling Khan flashes in his head, heartstrings twisting, "I don't want anything bad to happen to you." 

"Nothing will happen. Or has happened! I've lived through countless attacks and injuries, and I don't see anything taking me down in the near future," Sam argues, thumbing in her code with more force than necessary. Her hands shake when more flashes of memories hit her, like her dream. "I'm more resilient than you assume."

"But a person can only take so much, Sam," He says, one hand on the doorway to keep her from closing it on him, "Look, just... I'll back off, okay? But the instant it affects your work, you _need_ to let me help you." 

She purses her lips, still irritated until she sees the tired pout on his face. Damn her willpower for fleeing at the worst time. And the knot in her stomach screaming for her to pull him close and cling on. Her hand cups the back of his neck and pulls him in through the door, pressing a kiss to his lips as it shuts behind him, “Fine…"

"And I will hold you to that," He rests his forehead against hers, arms wrapping around her waist, "Don't make me chase you down like I have to for everyone's physicals." 

"If you ever need help with that, I'm happy to assist," She offers, tugging him back towards her bed.

"God, that would be great," he smirks, "Drag Jim to Sickbay by the ear." 

"Nah, too easy for him to get away from that. Fireman's carry is harder to break out of," She slips off her shoes and slides into bed, Leonard following her after shedding his shirt.

"I'd love to see that," He chuckles, "Uh... so, are you doing anything tomorrow?"

"Other than my shift, no," Sam curls up against his side, throwing her leg over his hip, "You got plans?"

"I've gotta call my daughter, but that's it," Sam's eyes flick up to his, her chest twisting. A split second of her mind freezes on her child, this newcomer into her life.

"Oh?" She pulls herself closer to him,” What’s her name?”

“Joanna,” He bites his tongue, wanting to ask about Sam’s daughter, “I should show you a picture sometime.” 

“Only fair, since you’ve seen Pammy’s picture,” She jokes, despite the sad look in her eyes. She gulps, “You’re uh… you’re lucky.” 

He holds her a tighter, Sam burying her face in his chest. They rest for a while in silence, Leonard stroking through her hair. He almost thinks she falls asleep until she speaks up, “Who does she stay with while you’re all the way out here…?” 

“She stays with my ex-wife,” He purses his lips, “Though luckily, she’s with her grandparents this week, I won’t have to get an earful from her mother.”

“Yeah… very glad I don’t have any contact with…” She frowns deeper, looking down at the red ring on her finger, lips curling into a bitter snarl. “Him.”

He frowns at her ominous tone, “I’m guessing you and this guy didn’t break it off too well?”

“You could say that,” Sam’s lips pull into a tight line– maybe that was what had been bothering her. Leonard gulps at that ominous look on her face, sitting up slightly.

“You aren’t with him any more, are you?” He worries, heart clenching.

“Well, no,” She sits up with him, “Not technically.”

“Technically?” Leonard argues, getting out of the bed, “That’s kind of an easy thing to decide, it’s not a spectrum of whether or not you’re in a relationship with him!”

“We… never actually got divorced,” She admits. Leonard scoffs, to which she tries to save herself, “But it was never an official marriage, I haven’t even seen him in centuries–“ she coughs, “Decades! It’s been so long, it doesn’t even matter–”

“It matters to someone out there,” Leonard argues, tearing out of bed. Sam jumps out of bed after him.

“Leonard, don’t do this,” She grabs his wrist, her grip strong enough that he can’t rip it away. “He doesn’t matter, he’s lightyears away–“ 

“You obviously still have him on your mind,” He pointedly looks down at the ring on her hand, Sam’s heart clenching in her chest as he wrenches his wrist from her grasp, “I can’t believe you.”

Sam gapes at his retreating back, frozen in the center of the room as the door whisks shut.She guesses it’s her turn to be left behind a shut door. Her teeth clench as she sinks back down onto her bed, scrubbing her hands over his face. Her heart pulses in her ears, a lump of blue on her desk drawing her eyes. Leonard’s shirt hangs over her chair, Sam willing herself not to pick it up. Helplessly, she flops back onto her bed, dragging the shirt with her as she stews in her mistake… mistakes.

Leonard doesn’t spend half the night sitting against the door to his quarters with his head in his hands. Definitely not.


	8. AN - Holy Shit I'm Sorry

Hey so uuuuuh, i kinda forgot which chapter I had or hadn't already uploaded??

so, yeah, fixing that, sorry


	9. January 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where everything goes even more to shit

Jim tries to keep his grimace to himself as he steps up towards Sickbay, the tell-tale yelling of an enraged McCoy urging him to walk into the nearest escape pod and pilot it into the safety of a quasar. Following Christmas, the Doctor’s attitude had turned from it’s usual meh to God awful, the fuse to his temper all but disappeared. And now, it’s just sinking further and further through the ranges of bitter rage, now on stage five of six on Jim’s list of anger stages; Nuclear fury. His hostility hadn’t gotten this bad since the one time Jocelyn called him over their winter break in the first year of the academy. He earned himself a bruise on his arm the size of Texas for so much as handing the man an apple, in an attempt to get him to eat something other than whiskey for the second day in a row.

But unfortunately, complaints had been pouring in over the Doctor’s worsening bedside manner as of late, and something needed to be done. He could have sent Spock, but only if he wanted the entire ship to explode, which only left him. He even messaged Sam about coming with him, because she seemed to be a good influence on his moods, and he wanted to see if this ordeal would end with their… blooming chemistry. But, unfortunately for Jim, she didn’t respond to more than a dozen messages. Dragging a hand through his hair, the Captain walks into the Sickbay, right into a train wreck of yelling.

“How can you idiots down there be dense enough to get yourself injured almost every damn day!” Leonard growls at an engineering ensign, roughly snapping the button on the hypospray pressed to his neck. The doctor storms away, “The disinfectant salve should work just fine, and you tell the rest of those jar heads down there that I’m surprised you all still have fingers, goddammit!”

“Bones!” Jim scolds. The fiery glare from the doctor could singe a hole through his uniform tunic. “Can I talk to you a minute.” 

He opens his mouth a moment, but Jim narrowing his eyes just makes his hostility grow. “Fine. You.” He turns to the ensign, spitting venom as he starts walking to his office. “You can go.”

The ensign prays to Jim for showing up, running as fast as he can out the door. Nurses look up from the back of the Sickbay, thanking the Captain for finally showing up and heeding their complaints. Jim crossing his arms, “Is there something wrong?”

“No,” He bites, “Is there any reason your down here?”

“People have been complaining, Bones,” Jim sighs, rubbing his forehead, “Your uh… temper is scaring people away, which is a huge risk in case we have an emergency situation.” 

“I’m sick of those goddamn idiots in the bellows of this death trap fucking up and coming to me, whining when they have no goddamned fingers left!” He hisses, crossing his arms huffily.

“Bones!” He reaches out for his friend’s shoulder, who slaps away his hand, “Oh, Jesus, c’mon Bones, there’s _something_ wrong, there has been for weeks!”

“I’m telling you, there’s nothing wrong!” He roars, ducking further away from his friend. He opens his mouth to further defend himself, but Spock breaks through on his communicator. 

“Captain?” Jim growls and plucks up his communicator.

“Not now, Spock, I’m a little busy,” He sighs.

“Sir, we’re intercepting a distress signal from an unidentified planet.” Jim curses under his breath.

“Dammit. I’m on my way,” He growls, “You’re coming up with me, this isn’t over.”

“The hell it isn’t–“ Leonard protests.

“Bones, enough.” He demands, “This. Isn’t over. There’s something wrong, but I’m probably going to need you for this. Is that understood?” 

Leonard scoffs, “Don’t talk to me like a damned infant.” He storms out past Jim, plucking up a tricorder as he passes out the door. Jim groans, storming his way up to the Bridge. Just as Sam walks right in through the opposite entrance to the bridge, Leonard bristling in the doorway as their eyes catch for just a moment. Sam staggers, tearing her eyes from his and stepping towards Spock and Jim instead. Jim doesn’t catch the glance between them, but Uhura does. Frowning between them, she’s unable to go to Leonard to ask what was wrong, toying with her Vokaya necklace between her fingers and awaiting orders.

“Should I play the transmission sir?” Uhura asks, hand on her ear and searching for other live frequencies.

“Audio, on screen if there is a feed,” He orders, hands resting on the back of his chair. There’s a crackling in the bridge, the feed struggling to make it though. Sam starts edging back towards the door, a sharp look from Uhura stopping her in her tracks.

“He-hello?!” The female’s voice finally manages to crackle through the speakers, “Hello, can anyone hear me out there! God please someone, answer me!”

“Uhura, calculate the response frequency,” Kirk commands, his knuckles turning white on the back of the chair. Despite the desperate sobbing voice on the speakers, Leonard only pays attention to Sam, who vehemently tries to ignore that entire section of the bridge. She can’t let herself look over there, guilt swirling in her stomach. It makes her want to vomit, and hold her arms over her stomach. She just… can’t. Too obvious. Every time she feels herself start to turn or cross her arms over her front, her nails bite into her palms a little deeper. 

“Return frequency calculated,” Uhura snaps a switch, “Hailing frequencies open.”

“This is James T. Kirk, Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise,” Kirk’s foot taps, hoping the frequency makes it through.

“Oh- Oh! Thank fucking god,” The woman sobs, “I–I need help, please you have to help me.” 

“We will help, don’t worry,” Jim tries to console her, “What’s your situation? Are you in any danger?”

“They’re, they’re after me, I got out of the jail they put me in but they’re coming after me, you’ve gotta help me!” The voice has an edge to it that Sam almost finds familiar and she can’t place where it’s coming from. 

“Who’s after you ma’am?” Jim asks, “And what’s your name?”

“M-my name’s Ruslana, I don’t know how I got to this place but they- they look weird and they had me locked up in a cell!” Sam’s brow furrows– after her experiences with women named Ruslana, any of them should be shot for their own good.

“Alright, Ruslana, we’ve got a lock on your coordinates, we’ll be sending in some of our crew to come get you, okay?” He says, “Are you in a safe location?”

“I-I hope so, I think so,” the transmission crackles like fabric rubbing against the microphone, “God, I really hope so-“

The transmission cuts, Jim cursing that it goes exactly how it usually does, “Try to get her back!”

“All frequencies silent sir,” Uhura taps across her console.

“What’s our ETA, Mr. Chekov?”

“10 minutes at most,” He taps his console quickly, “Setting course sir.”

“Punch it,” He orders to Sulu, turning to Sam. He blinks at her expression, a burning glare hitting the floor and her knuckles white, “Commander Hatfield?”

She blinks herself out of it, “Captain?” 

“Are you alright?” He asks.

“Fine,” She grinds out, moving to turn on her heel, “I’m going to go grab some of my ensigns.”

“Wait a second, you should wait, know what we’re really in for,” Jim says, Spock already walking to the scanner on his dashboard. “Anything on the system, Mr. Spock?”

“There are uncharacteristically high readings on the scans for intelligent life capability.” Spock says. 

“With a life form reading like this, what exactly should we be expecting?” Jim crosses his arms over his chest. 

“These readings rival that of ones registered with Romulus or–“

“What _exactly_ does that mean, Spock.” Jim doesn’t have the patience to listen to his full words, Spock giving him the slightest of frowns.

“It is a marker for advanced societies,” Sam juts in, trying to keep her eyes just on Jim’s forehead instead of flicking her eyes over towards Leonard like the back of her mind so desperately wants her to. “Meaning that they would most likely be advanced enough to have some sort of external communications, meaning those channels shouldn’t be silent.”

“Picking up no alternative frequencies,” Spock shakes his head, “Not even from the nearest Starbase.”

“Damn…” Jim huffs, “Here’s hoping shit doesn’t hit the fan.”

“You’re going to jinx us,” Leonard groans, gesturing with his hands for emphasis, “Something’s always going to go wrong, it’s a fuckin distress signal, Jim.”

“Sam, call up some security officers to the transporter room, McCoy you’re coming down with us too. Spock?” Jim looks up at his first officer, offering him a spot on the away team.

“It would be my pleasure, Captain,” He nods, hands clasped behind his back. 

Sam shifts on her feet, a feeling of unease settling in the pit of her stomach. The morning sickness had stopped bothering her so much a while ago, her restraint slipping up and letting her hand settle on her stomach. She finally gives up on keeping her eyes from Leonard, who jumps and forces himself to look away when her eyes brush past his. And then Jim finally notices the terse air between them, Uhura burning to ask.

“Is everything alright here?” Jim looks back and forth between the two brunets, Hatfield feigning disinterest and McCoy downright defensive.

“Yes,” They both bark at the exact same time, their eyes snapping to each other’s faces and glaring, McCoy’s far more hostile. Sam steels her shoulders, turning away first and ripping her hands away to her sides. “Is there anything else you need me for, Captain?”

“Uh, woah,” Jim thins his lips, Uhura giving him a look with her brows furrowed, “I don’t exactly know, just… wait a moment? At least until we reach the planet.” 

“Right,” She huffs, stashing herself against the wall right next to the turbolift, Leonard grinding his teeth and squaring himself firmly in the opposite direction. Spock raises a brow at the pair, but the air in the room starts turning hot. An electric charge seems to cloud the air, unease crawling across Sam’s skin. The ship slows down as the coordinates are reached, slipping into the orbit of a blue and grey splotched planet, wide oceans with small specks of land. “In orbit, sir.”

“Great,” Jim sighs, “Bones, Spock, with me. Uhura, keep trying to reach Ruslana’s signal. Uh… Sam, if there’s going to be tension, I’ll need you to send up another officer or two, but… this discussion isn’t over.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” she hisses, already stepping towards the turbolift but she doesn’t make it to the door before she’s knocked from her feet.  


Like a jolt of lightning striking her body, Sam convulses and collapses, but she doesn’t hit the ground. A yelp strangles in her throat as her arms yank at her shoulders, metal cuffs clinching around her wrists. Her feet barely touch the metal ground, struggling against her restrains. Leonard chokes as he falls forward, his height giving him the advantage of a looser pinch on his arms. Sam continues to struggle across from him, bouncing off of a stone wall behind her.

The instant they start struggling against their chains, something in the slabs activates. A dull blue light flips on, a blinding line slicing horizontally at the top before slowly drifting downwards. Heat melts through their clothes, all the way from their heads to their toes. When it reaches the bottom, the tablet clicks, and the lights shutting off, an automated voice saying, “Scan performed and stored. Copy awaiting approval.” 

“What the fuck is this?” Leonard demands, tugging the chains. They refuse to budge, the chains retracting him back to the block. Jim screeches, his hands wrenching around in their cuffs. The air is dim and stuffy, seven slabs standing in a U-shaped formation in a small chamber.

“Bones? You okay?” Jim coughs, dust in the air catching in his throat.

“Just peachy,” The southern man spits, balling his fists and tugging against the chains. Panic builds in Sam’s chest, this feeling too familiar. Sam coughs as she tries to breathe, timing each breath in the back of her head.

“Everyone alright?” Jim asks as he pulls himself to his feet, more or less getting affirmative noises from Spock and Uhura. Sam continues to hyperventilate. 

“Sam?” Jim asks, hearing the wheezy tone in her breath.

“Y-yeah, I’ll be fine. Just uh. Wasn’t expecting that.” She gasps, frantically twisting in her cuffs to the point that the friction burns her skin.

“Where are we?” Uhura asks, dirt crunching beneath her boots as she looks around.

“Oh, I can’t believe that actually worked!” A familiar voice snaps through the dark, as crisp as the foot falls clicking against metal, Sam freezing dead in her spot, “Geeez, I didn’t think anyone would fall for those distress calls! Thought it’d just be a cinema thing.”

“Ruslana?!” Jim calls out into the dark, clutching against his chains. Lights flip on overhead, searing their eyes and leaving the connecting hallway in shadow. Fading out of the gloom, sharp grey eyes bring back everything, Sam slipping out of her body for just a moment. God, she feels like she’s 20 again– just a puddle of fear in these same chains. 

"

“The hell is going on here?” Jim demands.

Sam ducks her head as the blonde woman steps past, cackling and resting her hands on her hips.

“Oh, Captain– uh, Kirk, was it?” Ruslana leans right in Jim’s face, “Well, I’m glad you were stupid enough to yield to our distress call.”

“How many did we catch?” A male voice purrs as he slides out of the darkness, taller than the already-tall human, who jumps in surprise, by more than a head. His light grey skin holds a pink iridescence to it, blue hair slicked back and cuffing behind hooded ears, keen eyes scanning over the em. Sam feels like she’s about to vomit, not like she hasn’t had enough of that in recent times.

“Jesus, Seagless, do you need to give me a heart attack? And I dunno. 5?” She peers around, stopping at Spock, “Oh, nope, 4. We can’t use the Vulcan… at least I don’t think they have enough for another team. Hold on, you’re not another alien are you?” She steps in front of Sam, “C’mon, why don’t you look up at me, sweet thing?”

That nickname makes her want to vomit, just because it was coming from that voice. But it was better than Jack’s… oh dear God. She starts to panic, gulping vomit down from the back of her throat as she stands, stepping into the light. Ruslana’s eyes widen, her smirk slowly bearing more teeth as she drags a hand through her strawberry blonde hair. 

“Oh… my god,” Ruslana’s grin turns deadly, “Is that really you, Sammy? After they erased you, I never thought I’d see you again!”

Sam’s mouth opens and closes, blood rushing in her ears, the others looking back and forth between them. Ruslana growls under her breath, “Huh… I miss your undercut. Suited you better.” She circles around her slab. “You look boring now, uniformed and all. Pathetic.”

“Sam, do you know this woman?” Jim asks.

“Oh, believe me, she knows me pretty well.” She sighs, her slender hand clutching at Sam’s chin. Leonard grits his teeth at her tone, Ruslana smirking wider and looking over her shoulder at him, “You don’t like that do you, big boy? Aw, did you get a replacement for your original toy? Jack’s gonna be so sad, he missed you so much.”

When she says his name, Sam’s hesitance breaks. Kicking wildly, she knocks the woman off her feet, her boot managing to nail her in the face. Panic makes her voice shake as she hisses,“Don’t. Touch Me.”

Ruslana grunts as her face collides with the open slab diagonal from her, Seagless rushing to her side on oddly silent feet. Blood pours down her face from a split in her forehead, the woman blinking for a moment before she splits into a grin, “Oooooh, Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Just like old times, hm, Past?”

“Don’t call me that,” She spits. “It was dumb then, and it’s dumb now?

“Aw, but come on. Don’t want to call me Prez anymore?” Sam struggles harder against her restraints, not giving a damn as she feels the skin split. “Past, Present, and Future. This reunion’s going to be sweet.”

“What is wrong with you? Sending out a fake distress call, and for what?” Jim jumps in, wanting to pull the blonde from her focus on Sam. Grey eyes snap to him, brightening with amusement.

“Well, for Galtor, of course.” she chuckles.

“No.” She bites, “No, we have to get out of here.”

“Oh, sweet thing, you’re all going to stay riiiight here,” Ruslana sighs, leaning against the side of her slab.

“Bring them. Though we’ll have to send the Vulcan back, we can’t use him on the human team. But there are more humans to expend,” Seagless calls over his shoulder, sashaying out of the light. Ruslana smirks, tongue flicking away a stray drop of blood from her lips. Leonard’s gut twists, Sam’s arms shaking under the strain of holding her entire body up.

“Did someone say something about a Vulcan?” Another voice asks from the dark. 

Sam’s lips thin into a line, cursing under her breath as a Vulcan woman steps into the room. Those piercing black eyes rip Sam’s heart right out of her chest. Heels click against the cement as the Vulcan storms forward, teeth and nails bared in an expression Leonard’s never seen on a Vulcan. Well, an expression in general. 

"T'Lyra, T'Lyra no!" Sam thrashes, but the woman’s arm pulls back, striking the brunette across the face with the palm of her hand. Leonard jerks, wanting to break free and knock the woman away. 

"That is for leaving us!" T'Lyra growls animalistic, making Sam look at her. Her nails pierce into the sides of her face as T'Lyra forces her to look up, glaring into her eyes. 

Growling, Sam struggles, “What? You gonna kiss me for coming back?”

T'Lyra slaps across the other cheek, “That is for coming back.”

Sam's head knocks back against the wall, eyes swimming in their sockets, “Would've much rather'ed a kiss.” 

“Your jokes aren’t appreciated.” T'Lyra spits, letting go of Sam's chin and striding away with her nose in the air. Leonard frowns at the Vulcan, far more emotional than Spock and decorated heavily with jewelry and piercings. Her eyes catch Spock's, instantly storming closer, “Ah, you have a replacement for me as well, K'diwa nemut?” ‘ _Beloved enemy’_.

“T'Lyra, don’t,” Sam hisses, “These people are just my crew mates, there's no damn replacements for anyone.”

“You always were a needy little bitch, so I wouldn’t be surprised,” Rus leans against the edge of her slab, snickering at her as the tips of her ears burn. Leonard’s teeth clench hard enough to make them creak, none of the others quite knowing how to respond. 

“We have things to be doing, Rus,” T’Lyra hisses, smacking her associate’s head as she walks past. 

“How are you so…” Jim frowns at the Vulcan.

“Emotive?” Sam finishes for him, shuffling across the forested room at a snails pace, “She’s a v’tosh ka’tur, they choose to display their emotions. Wish she didn’t.”

“We both know that’s not true,” T’Lyra purrs. A gun clips from the Vulcan’s belt, a click echoing through the room when she raises it. Before Sam can flinch away, a dart pins just below her collarbone, the numbness flooding her and taking her down. Leonard opens his mouth to yell, but one by one they all fall and hang int their chains.


	10. January / Caliguan Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo you may have accidentally read this because I'm a dick???? sorry????

The ground beneath her is wet and squishy as she comes to, the air biting and cold. A hoarse groan gargles from in her throat, her heart beating out of her chest. Her fingertips dig into moss below her, scrabbling backwards and struggling to push herself up. 

“Slow down, Waffle,” A man chuckles, almost endearingly, “You remember what happened last time you rushed yourself on Jigso.”

"God, that's still so bad..." As cheesy as it is, her heart tugs at that awful nickname, hesitating to call him 'Pancake' again. She laughs at how fucking god awful it is, but the world spins faster. “Jack…?” Sam asks, letting herself sag back onto the ground.

With her eyes squeezed closed, she listens– to Jack’s mouth breathing, to the wind whistling through trees and between rocks, to insects clicking around them. Slowly, she raises her head, and his sharp dual-toned eyes are all she sees for a moment. His grin splits wider across his face before she has to tear her face away. She’s met with a block of dense forest, thick frosted glass separating her from the outside. Looking over her other shoulder, Leonard is less than an arm’s length away. Jim and Nyota aren’t with them.

“Sam?” Jack asks, standing over her now.

“I forgot what Jigso felt like,” Sam croaks. Above her, Jack chuckles.

“Of course you would,” He leans against the frosted glass. “It’s been too long…”

Sam moves to push herself up, but her stomach twists. Rushing to her feet, she staggers away a couple of steps before she has bile rising over her tongue. Jack catches her before she can keel over, helping her lean against the wall as she pukes up the remnants of her breakfast. The cold seeping through the back of his uniform and the noises of someone gagging pull Leonard through the weird haze. His head lifts off the ground, immediately moving to get up, but the world spins a little too fast and knocks him back down. 

“Rise and shine, handsome,” T’Lyra purrs at him from her perch in the corner of the glass cubicle. 

“Hey!” Sam barks, hand clawing the other woman’s “Careful. I’ve broken your arm before, I’ll do it again.”

Sam gags again, T’Lyra cackles even louder, and Leonard swears he’s gotta be dreaming to see a Vulcan laugh like that, “Try me, bitch. Unless you’d like a fractured skull again.” 

Between the heaves, Sam manages to spit out, “Bite me, skag. You couldn’t have tried housebreaking her?”

"I stopped trying centuries ago," Jack laughs. 

Leonard pulls himself up, much slower this time as he observes the world around them. Using a tree stump to push himself up, he takes a moment to stabilize himself. 

“What’d you shoot us with?” Leonard croaks. 

Sam lifts her head to explain, but the vomit beats her voice to her mouth. 

“Jigso,” Jack pats the brunette’s shoulder, who huffily scoots away down the wall, “It’s a sedative derived from a kelp on this planet.”

He groans as he pushes himself to his feet, tripping over his own feet once before he’s at Sam’s side. Pushing aside the anger, he pulls back her hair from her face as she pukes into the bushes, heart twisting weakly under the numb haze of his brain. Sam jumps, wiping her mouth as she backs away against the glass, avoiding Jack’s glances between herself and Leonard. 

“What planet is this?” Leonard asks.

“Caliguan,” Sam coughs, spitting into the sink as the nausea finally passes, “It’s uh… not one of the charted ones, I guess.”

“Yeah, and it’s going to stay that way probably,” Jack shrugs, “Your ship is already being docked and your crew is being contained.”

“What do you want with them?” Leonard growls.

“Contestants,” T’Lyra says, Sam’s teeth gritting audibly. “For Galtor.”

“You’re not going to lay a goddamn finger on any of the crew,” Sam’s head swoons as another wave of nausea hits, forcing it away with a slap to her own cheek. 

“Please, like you have any control over what they do to them, sweetie.” Jack snorts. 

“Don’t ‘sweetie’ me,” She hisses.

“What are you even doing with these people?” Jack demands, “You’re an archeologist! What use would they have for that on a space ship?”

“I… I gave that up a long time ago,” Sam sways on her feet. Leonard is quick to catch her, Sam clutching onto his shirt. "And you’d be surprised, we have one on staff."

"Are you okay?" Leonard asks, trying to duck to look into her eyes. 

She avoids him, backing away and stumbling, "I’m fine–"

"Easy!" He stresses, catching her when she almost tumbles again, "Sam, I really don’t think–"

“I’m fine,” She bites, ripping away. She fakes wobbling for another moment before she peers out of the glass walls. “Jigso always upset my stomach before.”

“No, it didn’t,” Jack snorts, his laugh cutting off as Sam snaps her head up at him. “What? I should know, we spent a lot of time together.”

“I don’t need this right now,” Sam huffs.

The glass around them clears showing that their little cubicle is settled on the edge of a clearing. A silver tower stands at the center of it, a long pole with gigantic screens hanging off of it. The screens flicker on, speakers seemingly activating beneath their feet as music starts to play in place of the sounds of nature. 

“We’re starting,” T’Lyra knocks on the glass panel. A small outline of a hand lights up, which she presses. A door unseals, letting her out into the clearing– but Jack stays behind with them. As the Vulcan walks away, other cubicles come into view along the edge of the clearing, each with another four or five people in them. Directly across the way, Sam can make out the primary colors of another group of Starfleet crew. 

“T’Lyra, get your ass back here!” Sam pounds against the glass. The Vulcan doesn’t even turn back.

“Sam?” Leonard asks, very close behind her. The brunette jumps away, knocking herself into the corner and staring wildly at the man. Leonard puts up his hands, backing up a little, “Sam, what’s going on? What is Galtor?”

“Galtor,” Sam chokes out, “It’s a death match. Kind of like a bastardization of old-Earth gladiator fights.”

“That’s putting it a little harsh, isn’t it?” Jack asks, studying his nails.

“No. It’s a festival of bloodlust and terror.” She turns to the glass, looking up at the screen at the center of the field. "You’re the one who coined that, don’t give me that bullshit now."

“And you’ve been here before?” Leonard asks, stepping up to the glass.

Peering around the clearing, there’s at least 12 other troops, ranging from Vulcans, to Andorians, to Klingons. 

“Unfortunately,” Sam blinks, thinking hard. Flipping around, she storms up to Jack, “What about the injectors?”

His smile drops for a fraction of a second. Something whirs, like a bug whizzing past them, and it’s back, charismatic and vile. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Jack tuts, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her nose. She squawks indignantly, ducking away an inch or two, “You remember the rules.”

“Refresh my memory,” Sam bites, looking up into the trees. 

“Parties with more than 50 individuals forfeit the right to injectors,” Jack says.

“Bullshit, that wasn’t a rule!” Sam argues, but Jack catches her chin in his hand.

“Sam. You need to calm down,” He says, leaning in closer. Leonard’s stomach twists with something– jealousy, possessive anger, something. “You’re the only one here who didn’t pick the short straw! You’ve still got your injector, I felt it–“

“Did you feel me up while I was unconscious–?” 

His finger presses over her lips, quieting her. “You have nothing to worry about! Your friends on the other hand,” His eyes pierce into Leonard like poison darts, “They should start to worry.”

When Jack looks back at Sam, he leans in almost imperceptibly, but Sam backs away with her arms wrapping around herself. Jack grits his teeth, combing his hand through his coifed hair. “You should introduce me to your friends before we start, Sam. I’ll need at least his name anyways.”

“This is my crewmate, Dr. McCoy," She says tersely, "Where are Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Uhura?"

“No first names?” Jack taunts.

Sam growls, “Dr. Leonard McCoy, Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, and Captain James T. Kirk.”

“Wonderful,” Jack sighs, just as the music playing softly below them begins to turn up louder. "Your friends are in another cubicle. We want to test out how viable some of the crew are before deciding their fate."

"Where else would they go?" Sam demands, "They haven’t done slaving in–"

"Oh no, they brought that back," He sighs, studying his nails. 

“Sam, who is this?” Leonard asks, eyeing the man suspiciously.

“This is Jack Foster, an asshole,” Sam hisses. 

“Her husband,” Jack tacks on. He reaches out a hand to take hers, which she jerks away from. Leonard’s heart clenches in his chest, forcing himself to look at the clearing instead. 

“Ex-husband.” Sam assures him. "Drop the act, you backstabbing son of a bitch."

"We’re live sweetheart, you know–"

"This isn’t something I plan on giving an encore," She spits. 

The music, heavy in percussion, vibrates through their feet– it makes Sam’s gut twist nervously. Flashes of video plays on the screens, establishing shots of ghost towns in different stages of rot, forests, tundra wastelands, deserts. Blood splatters on the ground, people running away from a low angle camera. A Romulan struggles to keep a knife just above his throat, one of the Caliguan’s bearing their teeth as he struggles to claim the Romulan’s head for a trophy. He succeeds. The film keeps rolling, one after the other of people of various species becoming prey or claiming it. Humans, Romulans, Vulcans, Gorns, Orions, Cardassians, Andorians, more Caliguans (the iridescent beings).

And there she is, a younger version of Sam for just a moment, and God does she want to vomit again. Leonard notices it in an instant. Despite the large glasses and the wild hair, he knows its Sam swinging an axe down into the juncture of someone’s neck. Blood sprays up on her glasses as the screen jumps, the film cutting to black. Something cold grasps at the pit of his stomach as he looks over at her pale face. 

Heavier music sets in below their feet as the screens start flipping through different cameras, each a display of another glass cubicle. A vicious roar echoes over head as contestants begin pounding on the glass. Jack snorts, pounding a fist against the glass, looking over and expecting Sam to do the same. She moves towards the glass but doesn’t pound, looking around for something.

“Where’s the armory?” Sam demands, looking around the cacophonous clearing.

“We started moving it,” Jack says as Sam curses, “Spread out the killings a little.”

“Dammit,” Sam huffs, turning back to the crew, “Look, we really don’t have much time, so this is the game plan–“

“Welcome contestants!” A woman’s voice bellows from beneath their feet, “To Galtor 154.180! In this game of Success and Sacrifice, whichever you choose, may you find triumph!”

“Ignore him,” Sam continues. Leonard’s head is spinning, he has to reach out and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Slow down, Sam,” He says, not too offended when she jerks away.

“No, I’m not going to slow down,” Sam huffs, “Because they’re going to go through and introduce the contestants, and then we have to break out of this fuckin’ glass tinderbox, and then we’ll be left to fend for ourselves. And there’s another group of our crew over there. We need to get them and find a way out.”

“There’s only two ways out of this arena,” Jack says, “In a winner’s chariot, or a body bag. Most often a body bag.”

Below their feet the automated voice says, “Players- Caliguan 1. Individuals-“ 

Another voice takes over for the automated one. “Genso Plistas, Tinta Greyan, Helle Seyrus, Lilop Dutena.”

The Automated voice says again “Players- Vulcan 1. Individuals-“

“What do we need to do?” Leonard asks, stepping up to the glass and looking around.

“We need to get as far away from the center as we can,” Sam says, “Find weapons, find food, find shelter.”

"But what about Jim and Uhura?" Leonard stresses.

"Fuck," Sam growls, "Well everyone else is going to run in some direction, the most dangerous way for us to go is across the core. How likely is it that he’ll run right through a mess of attackers?" 

"Pretty damn likely," He says.

"Yeah I figured as much." She tugs her hands through her hair, "Fuck… we’re going to have to run that way. At least no one should have weapons other than shards of glass. How well can you duck?"

"Better than I can goose." He huffs.

"Do you really think this is the time to be joking?!" Sam demands, "Can you spot where they are? Maybe we can arch around the side–"

"Nope," Jack points. Right across the clearing is a cubicle, holding two people in a red and a yellow uniform. 

"Shit," Sam hits her forehead against the glass. "Are there any other humans you have here?"

“They’re definitely your crew. You’re the first humans we’ve had in 200 years,” Jack sighs, leaning against the glass. Sam freezes with her heart shooting out of her chest.

Leonard double takes away from the clearing, “Wait, in how long?”

“200 years?” Jack says, “What year is it back on Earth? This planet has roughly the same orbit.”

“2264,” Leonard says, eyes flicking to Sam, who is still frozen.

Jack whistles, “Man, yeah, it’s been like… 250 years then. Sam and I were the last two humans brought out here.” He reaches out to ruffle her hair, but she smacks his hand away. 

“Players - Humans 1. Individuals–“ The voice says, Rus’s voice following with, “James T. Kirk, and Nyota Uhura”

“Fuck,” Sam huffs, leaning her head against the cool glass. 

“Sam, what is going on?” Leonard demands.

“We don’t have time to talk about it now,” She urges, looking up to the screens just as their cubicle comes on.

"Human 2 - Individuals–"

Jack knocks on the glass to get that hand panel. When he presses his hand on it, a small recording sign turns on. “Leonard McCoy, Samantha Hatfield-Foster.”

Gritting her teeth, she budges Jack out of the way with her hip, replacing his hand with hers, “Just Samantha Hatfield.”

The instant her hand drops, the recording symbol shuts off. Jack stares daggers into her as she steps away, “You didn’t even keep my last name?”

“No,” Sam huffs, watching the screens intently. 

"Aw c’mon, Waff–" He tries to move towards her.

She growls, "I swear to god, if you call me that again, I’ll tear out your fucking gauges."

“Final Player– Caliguan 2. Individuals–”“Betel Russic, Newna Bishelp, Jesup Tilluw, Tikta Liiche.” 

“Players ready?”

There’s thunderous yelling as the other contestants start pounding on the glass again, Sam moving away from the front pane. Knocking on the side wall, she listens to it, before moving to the back pane and trying again. The speakers begin beeping below them, slow, like a count down, “We need to break this pane.”

“What?” Leonard demands.

Sam bounds back a step, “If you want to get out of here, we need to break the pane– before someone else does and we’re trapped in here and we all die.”

She rears back and punches it, the glass wobbling and the smallest of cracks forming. Before she can punch again, Leonard grabs onto her wrist, “Are you out of your goddamned mind?”

“Are you?” Sam shouts over the ear splitting foghorn from below their feet. She tugs her hand in his grasp but he doesn’t let go, “Unless you want them to bust in here and kill us before the game really starts, we need to run! Do you think I’m kidding?”

The sound of shattering glass echoes into their cubicle, other contestants clawing their way out into the clearing and the forest around them. Even still in his grasp, Sam kicks out at the glass and her boot goes right through, the glass shattering around her as she breaks immediately into a run.

She skirts around the side, some Caliguans from the next cubicle already stalking their way. Leonard pauses for a moment, the brunette doubling back for him.

"C’mon!" Sam yells, grabbing Leonard’s hand and tugging him forward.

The clearing is cacophonous with shattering glass and yelling, a blood curdling scream to the north making Leonard jump. But the grip on his wrist keeps him moving forward. They run in the opposite direction, towards Jim and Uhura’s still in tact cubicle. 

"You need to get out of there!" Sam yells as they run up towards the cubicle. Jim punches at the glass, but it just wobbles. She drops Leonard’s hand, preparing to kick the glass in, but an Andorian cuts through her path. He tackles her to the ground, Sam screaming and rolling with him. Leonard yells, moving to go help her but she yells again, rolling and tossing the Andorian off, "Get them out! I’ll be fine!"

She yells as the Andorian gets back up and barrels her over, slamming her into the glass and shattering it easily. Sam hisses as glass rains down around her, falling into the pile of shatters.

"Hm, four kills for the price of one, hm?" The Andorian coos, rounding closer towards Uhura. 

With a well aimed kick, Uhura sends the Andorian flying back into the grass. Jim kneels next to Sam, helping her up from the pile of glass. Before they can get to far, the Andorian grasps Leonard’s ankle, yanking him backwards. Without a moment’s hesitation, Sam stomps on her throat, the woman gasping and letting go in favor of grasping Sam’s boot. The grip is firm, Sam only able to get away and start running again when she lifts up her foot and stops harder, just once. The Andorian doesn’t move again. 

Even with their head start, Sam overtakes them in a couple of paces, "We need to move as far to the edge of the arena as we can!"

"Why?" Jim yells, panting and falling back.

"We need as much distance between us and the others as we can!"

"Sam, hold on!" Leonard yells, starting to fall back too.

"We don’t have time!"

With a small burst, Leonard manages to catch up to her, grabbing her wrist firmly and pulling her to a stop. She stumbles, flipping back to look at him. “Sam… Sam you gotta hold on a second.”

“Oh, do I?” She spits, "Have I not been explicitly clear that we have to go?"

“You’ve been about as clear as mud!” Leonard retorts, “You need to actually talk to us, not just run and expect us to follow!”

Sam buttons her lips into a tight line, looking between her crew mates around her. When her eyes catch Leonard’s, wide and panicked, she heaves an angry sigh, “I… okay. What do you want to know?”

“Everything that’ll help,” Uhura urges.

“Everything?” Sam laughs in disbelief, “Okay, then everything. This is Galtor. A cluster-fuck televised massacre. And if we win, we’re fucking stuck here, and you’re going to be given a stupid vegtoc injector, so they can keep reviving us and killing us. Over. And Over. I managed to get myself off this Godforsaken planet and be rid of this whole thing, and I’m sure as fuck not going to die right off the fucking bat. Is that 'everything' enough?” 

Leonard’s mouth hangs open, unable to think of anything to say. 

“Do we get any weapons?” Jim asks, keeping his voice light.

Letting her shoulders sag, Sam huffs, “There’s an armory. When I was here, it would be in the center of the clearing. And it would be a massive bloodbath trying to get to it. But Jack said they started moving it around, to spread out the killings.”

“Is there only one man left or can there be multiple winners?” Uhura asks. 

“That depends,” Sam says, curling her arms around her middle, almost protectively, “It has to be either your full original team if you want the whole group to live. If a single person on your team dies, then one one person can survive to the end. But, death can be avoidable–“

“By not fighting,” Leonard interrupts.

“By sacrificing,” Sam stresses. She opens her mouth to elaborate, but a battlecry pierces the trees to the south. A Klingon man crashes through the brush, a large stick clutched above his head as he swings for Kirk. He yelps and rolls out of the way, reaching for his phaser out of habit and coming up fruitless. Instead, he throws himself at the Klingon in a ‘human projectile’ sort of manner. 

The Klingon falls beneath him and Jim rolls to his feet, the other not very stunned. It works enough for Leonard to clutch him by the arm and start dragging him into the trees. Uhura is quick to run after them, green passing quickly and closing behind them. Only Leonard notices the Klingon yank Sam back by the boot, who falls face first into the underbrush. 


	11. Caliguan Part 2

Spock clutches the armrests of the Captain’s chair with his barely masked unease, eyes flicking up to his iridescent sentinel. A Caliguan, who introduced herself as Prigon, catches his gaze and grins wickedly with wide plate teeth. 

“Hm, shouldn’t you be focusing on your crewmates? You seemed so insistent upon it before.”

“Am I correct in assuming that you will not allow me to leave this chair?” He questions, looking at her hand, clutched tightly on the headrest of the chair. 

“Very correct,” She nods, splitting off into howling with laughter at the screen as a Romulan woman gets their face pummeled in by an Orion woman. Spock’s lips pull into an even thinner line, averting his eyes from the gore– not for skittishness, but for respect of the victim. Sulu clutches tighter to his dashboard at the helm, gritting his teeth.

“How can you people sit idly by and watch this?” He asks, turning back to Prigon. 

“Good gore is the most soothing of displays,” The iridescent purple woman sighs, “ How can this not be therapeutic to you–“ She peels off into more obnoxious laughter as a Caliguan steps on a hidden trap, the ground consuming them and dropping them into a dark hole. The instant it does, a small bell rings, the voice saying: “Player Caliguan 2- Eliminated.”

“E’wen of your own kind?” Chekov asks, arms curled around himself tightly.

“Pft, they’re criminals. This is the most just way to end them. Or allow them to serve and gain their freedom, but that rarely happens,” Prigon snorts.

Spock’s eyes flash up as primary colors reappear on the screen, relief settling when he sees all four unharmed. They’re standing in a grove of thick trees, Leonard reaching out and stopping Sam as she pivots back at him. 

"Ugh, why did you have to bring her back?" Prigon groans.

Spock raises a brow at the Caliguan, "What do you mean like that?"

"The human team had a good dynamic without Sam, and now that we’re going to have her back as a part of them, it’ll ruin their streak. She’s bad luck." Prigon growls.

"How could she be bad luck?" Sulu asks, not daring to look away from the screen. 

"Before she ran away, the human team had maybe 10 wins at most," She shrugs, "But the past 15 games have been Rus and Jack’s for the taking. And even before that, they kept great streaks."

"How long ago was Ms. Hatfield here?" Spock asks.

"Oh geez. It’s been a while since I’ve heard her not be called Foster," Prigon laughs, "But it’s been a fucking long time. Dunno, 100 years, give or take?"

"How in the world is that possible," Sulu demands, gripping the edge of his console.

“I’m over a 500 years old,” Prigon shrugs, “Vegtoc is a wonderful thing.”

“Vhat is Vegtoc?” Chekov asks, pivoting his seat. 

“It’s a metal found here. When minute particles are added to blood, it has regenerative properties,” Prigon shrugs again, "How do you think Sam is still alive if she’s lost so many games?"

Spock is about question further but the Klingon crashes through the trees, narrowly missing Jim only to be “attacked” by the Captain. Prigon howls, bent over with laughter, “What?! What kinda bullshit was that?!”

Spock grits his teeth at the screen, not knowing how to defend Kirk’s… excessive fighting style. As they start running and Sam is ripped back, the screen goes picture in picture. 

–

Sam kicks off the Klingon, her heel grinding into his forehead. She yells, aiming another kick to his eye, but her foot is caught and she’s pulled back along the dirt. Face to face, she spits in his eye, “Hu’tegh HuH Ql’yaH!” “ _Damn Slimy (A Klingon Insult So Foul, It Defies Translation)”._

“Ha’HlbaH!” He screams in her face, “ _Animal!”_

He manages a clean punch across her cheek, but it leaves him open to her grabbing his other shoulder, kicking off the ground to roll them and perch above him. She grits her teeth as she barrages his face with punches. However, she can’t keep him there long, both rolling off a small rock ledge, Sam getting the wind knocked out of her and a hand wrapping tightly around her neck. Leonard rushes back through the trees, gripping onto the Klingon to try to rip him off, but he doesn’t budge– choking Sam harder as he puts all of his weight on her. 

Her face is bright red as she scratches at his hand, her throat burning. A loose vine sticks up enough that she can grab it without much struggle, looping it around the Klingon’s neck and pulling tight. His eyes bulge as she strangles him, his own hand trying to press down on her harder, but she wedges her knee between them, lifting him away. Wheezing, she watches his face go bright lavender before he slumps down over her, eyes wide and barren. The obnoxious bell rings, the sound reverberating through her back from the speaker directly below her. 

“Player Klingon 1- Eliminated.”

Once she hears the safety of that bell, she kicks him away, struggling for breath. Leonard rushes to her side, his hands reaching to hold her shoulders, but the instant he touches her, she jerks away as though she’d been burned. He backs away, concern on his face as he extends a hand to her silently. Gulping down air, she takes it, getting up on shaking legs and wrapping her arms around her middle.

“How do you like that, you fucker!?” Sam spits on his corpse, Leonard pulling her back. 

“Sam!” Leonard scolds. 

Both scream in surprise at the voice booming below them.

“Player count! Of the original 64, 57 remain. Hour range proceeding– dusk commencing.”

“Fucking hell, Siri,” She huffs, sagging into Leonard’s side. The instant she hears a tiny whirring sound, she rips herself away, managing to catch the camera lens pulling back into the trunk of the tree. 

“It has a name?” Leonard asks, watching her drift away from him. He takes a deep breath, struggling to keep himself from following. 

“It’s…” Sam huffs, rubbing her neck, “It’s a reference to something from a long time ago.”

“Enlighten me?” He asks, “Sam, I just want to know what the hell is going on.”

“It’s nothing important. A small factoid from… God fucking dammit, this wasn’t supposed to happen,” Sam holds her head in her hands, panic starting to rise in her throat. Or just vomit, she realizes, gulping it down. She doesn’t want Leonard to catch anything’s amiss, but he notices it anyways, quickly at her side. 

“We need to find the others,” She brushes past him, but Leonard grabs her arm.

“Sam, stop for a second,” He asks, about a million things running through his head as he sets his hands on her shoulders. They can’t keep doing this, running to each other and instantly repelling, but the sudden panic on her face shuts down the possibility of him putting that thought into words. “Are you okay?”

Sam heaves a sigh, setting a hand over one of his and squeezing it, “I’m fine.” She meets his eyes, letting them linger for a moment. Feeling daring with the whirring camera lens above them, she takes a hold of his hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it before brushing past him, “Lets go find where those other two ran off to.”

Brows raising for a moment, Leonard glares at the back of her head, “You need to stop that.”

“Stop what?” Sam wheezes, her voice hoarse from being choked. Ducking down, Kirk and Uhura’s tracks are relatively easy to find. 

“Getting close and then sprinting away?” Leonard all but pouts, and Sam quirks a sympathetic smile. “I’m not kidding, I’m getting sick and tired of getting pulled around–“

“I wasn’t the one who ran away last time,” Sam tuts, ducking below a low hanging branch.

“I’m not the one who’s still married,” Leonard retorts.

“Since this planet doesn’t have legal ceremonies, I was never actually married,” Sam shrugs.

“Still, you should have said something before we–"

“I haven’t seen him in literally 150 years!” Sam argues. 

"That doesn’t matter!" Leonard stops walking, throwing his hands out in emphasis, "I don’t know what the hell that guy thinks, he still calls you by a damn pet name–"

"Because we were friends! We were never romantically together!" Sam pivots back at him, "Friends with benefits, sure, but the whole marriage was a stupid idea they used to cause more drama in this sick massacre soap opera!"

Leonard’s head ducks back in confusion, eyes narrowing, "Then why do you wear a ring from him?"

"Because we exchanged senior class rings in high school when we left for separate colleges…" Sam wraps her arms around her center, trying to keep her from toying with her rings, "It’s dumb, but… it’s just nostalgia. The last piece of my distant past that I have."

"Distant past?" Leonard frowns at her phrasing, "How distant are we talking?"

A cold shock reverberates through her, mouth opening and closing as she tries to come up with something to say, "I… I can’t say…"

"Do you not remember?" He takes a step, stopping when she starts to recoil. 

"No, I remember perfectly," She shakes her head, "I just don’t know if you’ll believe me."

"Try me."

A moment of silence passes, Sam squinting her eyes shut before looking into Leonard’s. Desperation makes his hazel eyes softer, almost doe-like. She breaks.

"I was born in the 20 th century."

"You…" He licks his lips, trying to process, "What…?"

With a groan, she rubs her face, "I was born in 1982. The Caliguans abducted me in 2014 and sold me into this… massacre soap opera. They implanted me with the panel on my back, it distributes small amounts of vegtoc into my bloodstream and allows my body to regenerate to a certain degree. In the games, we get killed. With the press of a button, they can do it all again."

Leonard’s brain is short circuiting, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to figure out what to say. His hand covers his mouth, holding his head up as he slouches in on himself. The silence stirs Sam’s brain, her foot tapping at the ground. 

"Say something…" Sam urges, "please…?"

"You said that your blood itself isn’t keeping you alive, but this… vegtoc, right?" He asks quietly.

Taken off guard, Sam nods.

"What is vegtoc anyways?" He asks, "It’s not poisonous is it?"

"No," She sighs, heaving a relieved laugh, "I mean… it’s a metalloid. In enough doses, it has the potential, but it manages to revive heart function, so at that point it might not matter, right?"

Skeptically, Leonard nods, "Still–"

"I’m fine Leonard." She assures, "Well… I’ll at least be fine when we get back to the ship."

"I’m still going to have to examine you when we get up there." He stresses. 

Her heart clutches in her chest, knowing all that would entitle. She nods with a feigned sigh, "When we get back to the ship."

"Right," He agrees. With a start, he remembers that Jim and Uhura are gone, "Shit, we should probably go find our Idiot and Uhura."

"Oh, he’s _Our_ idiot now?" Sam quips with a smirk. 

"The instant you boarded the Enterprise, he became Your Idiot too." Leonard jokes.

"It sounds like we’ve adopted a child," Sam says, her voice wavering when she remembers certain other situations. Her stomach quivers, like it was just activated by the thought. 

"He is a child." Leonard persists, holding a plant out of the way for her. 

"Thanks," She smiles and walks past. 

She waits for a moment for him to meet her stride before she holds her hand out, easily finding his at his side. He’s so surprised, he almost jumps. But he takes her hand and lets her guide him along. 

The forest around them is mostly quiet, Sam startling from listening for sounds of Kirk and Uhura when Leonard asks. 

"So, what exactly did you mean earlier by sacrifice?" 

"When did I say that?" Sam frowns.

"Before the Klingon attacked," Leonard reminds her. 

"Well–"

"Hm, Sam, why don’t you take a breather and let me step in?" A voice sighs from behind them, Sam jumping to guard Leonard with her fists up. His raise out of instinct, eyes darting around. "Aaw isn’t that cute! So in sync, you two."

"We don’t need your help, get out of here!" Sam yells. 

The bushes rustle, something walking a circle around them. And something emerges. A drone flies out from above the foliage, descending to in front of them. With a flicker, a hologram appears in front of them, an orange iridescent Caliguan dressed in long robes that glitch through the foliage as she walks. 

"Ah, Sammy, it’s been so long!" She sighs, walking around them in a full circle, "My, you’ve somehow gotten older. It’s a wonder you haven’t gone grey." 

"It’s a wonder no one else has tried beheading you yet," Sam spits back. The sickly sweet smile on the woman’s face drops.

"Samantha, you really need to be reeducated on your manners."

"Oh, no, I took Cotillion classes when I was a kid, I think Earth rules still apply." 

The orange woman purses her lips, putting her hands on her hips, "Well, care to introduce me to your new friend? Or should I say more than friend?"

"You-…" Sam takes a breath, stopping herself from denial. At this point, it’s not worth the stab of regret when she sees Leonard’s face, "Leonard, we should just go. Leave this piece of shit behind." 

"Now, now, don’t be rude," She chides, "Well, Leonard, I’m Beguara, the Counselor for all Games Participants. I’d shake your hand if this was a corporeal form, but I’m sure it’s a pleasure."

"Likewise," Leonard frowns up at her.

"So, I wanted to give you a rundown, because I don’t think Jack did as I instructed beforehand. I want to talk to you about the sacrifices!" Beguara purrs. 

Sam crosses her arms and cocks out a hip, glaring up at her, "Don’t trust a thing she says."

"These are simple rules, Sammy, how can I mess these up?" Beguara asks.

Tapping her foot on the ground, Sam huffs, "You know what? Go for it, I can set things straight after you let us be."

"Excellent," Beguara claps her hands, "Hm, it’s a little unfortunate that neither of you are injured like one of your friends is–"

"Which one’s hurt?" Leonard demands, Beguara tutting.

"Ah, ah, ah, I’m not finished! Now, so… hmmm say you have a broken arm. You need that arm to get through the game, so we strike up a deal. You sacrifice a part of yourself, like… well there’s a range of things. I could trade fixing your arm for breaking some ribs, taking some of your eyesight or–"

"How?" Leonard demands, "Breaking ribs I can understand how you can do that, but how can you only take some of my eyesight."

"They give you a little pill," Sam says, "Dunno what’s in it, but I definitely felt a difference between 'some' and 'most' of my eyesight being gone."

"You’ve accepted that before?" His head snaps to look at her. 

"I’ve been in some pretty dire straits," Sam defends with a shrug, "Keep in mind that I only won, meaning I only survived the games, 5 times."

"And what magnificent wins they were. All in times of stress, no?" Beguara strides to Sam, face to face. "Your first game."

"Beguara," Sam warns with a growl.

"Your proposal–"

"Quit it."

"The advent of your rivalry with T’Lyra."

Sam waits a moment before she says, " 'Kay, I’m not mad about that one."

"The next when you found out about your pregnancy with Pamela–"

"Yeah, now you can stop," Sam hisses, "Are you hosting the recap episode here? Can you stop?"

"And then your loosing her."

Sam drops to the ground and picks up a rock, hurling it up at the drone. It bounces up with a clang, jostling the drone. Beguara’s hologram shudders, but doesn’t go away. 

"Are you trying to tell me something, Sammy?" Beguara snickers, "Now, sacrifices. Yes, we can take whatever part of your physical form that we may need. If you’d lie to make a sacrifice, all you need do is say so."

She turns, phasing through some of the foliage before she turns back, "Oh. Since this is a rather big event for you, Sam, I have high hopes for your achievement. You should feel lucky to be present now of all times, Leonard. If you’ll both excuse me, your friends need some talking to."

With that, Beguara turns and strides into the foliage. The drone lifts out vertically, flying off ahead of them. Ripping out her elastic holder, Sam drops her from its ponytail to tug her hands through it repeatedly.

"Uh… any more questions about sacrifices?" Sam asks, already starting to walk where they were following the supposed path Jim and Uhura took. 

He purses his lips, "What type of sacrifices should I avoid?"

"Anything with your senses," Sam answers without hesitation. When he raises his brow in surprise, she explains, "There was this one time my fingers were frostbitten, and I asked for a sacrifice. Because it was later in the game, she asked for a bit more. Half of my sense of taste and half of my sense of sight. I got lost in a blizzard, got frostbitten toes, and secluded myself into a cave. There was a spring in the cave that I drank from. I couldn’t taste the fact that it was about 50% Begrina, which is a poison people can get from the Armory."

"What does Begrina taste like?" He asks, ducking around a hanging branch, "For future reference."

"Like sour apple, but worse," Sam sighs, looking around for tracks in the dirt. There’s nothing, no trail, "Dammit… Any way you could think of finding Kirk?"

"We could always start yelling for them," He suggests.

"And end up drawing in every other contestant? Not a chance," Sam huffs. Her stomach churns, but she buttons her lips and keeps walking. In her head, she curses morning sickness. Her feet stagger, realizing that this is the first time she’s truly recognized she’s pregnant. She looks at Leonard, who’s still unaware. A need crawlsShe bites her lip, keeping herself from groaning or crying out. Instead she grasps at her hair, and huffs, "This… this is just fucking fantastic." 

"We’ll find them," Leonard assures her, oblivious to her internal plight. 

"Well if we don’t, at least I know both of them can throw a punch." Sam huffs. 

"Yeah," Leonard huffs a laugh in agreement.

Somewhere in the distance, something begins to rumble, like a storm rolling in. They stop, looking around. And the ground drops out from below them. 

Leonard crashes down to the ground face first, Sam managing to crack down onto her knees as the ground shakes, plunging downwards a couple of feet and rebounding an inch or so. It keeps dropping, the ground quivering and shaking the foliage around them. Trees crack and fall, Sam rolling out of the way of the top branches that try to whip her. She rolls into Leonard’s side, her arms wrapped tight around her middle. Out of instinct, his arms wrap around her and pulls himself over her, bracing himself for something to crash down on him. 

The world stops quivering around them, Leonard’s head snapping up and looking around. Only a couple of trees have fallen around them, just the one close call where Sam had originally been standing. With a sigh, Leonard rests his forehead against Sam’s, and she leans back against him.

"Are you okay?" Leonard asks. 

Sam nods, before a smile quirks her lips, "You’re uh, crushing me a lil’ down here."

"Eh, I think you’ll live," He smirks back. He gets to his feet before helping Sam to her’s, "What do you think that was?"

"Not a clue," Sam shakes her head.

"You’ve never had an earthquake in the games before?" Leonard straightens his shirt as he walks.

"Of course we have," Sam shakes her head, keeping her arms wrapped around her middle and following him, "But usually the arena reflected it. This is nothing like I saw before…"

—

Despite the screen staying picture and picture, Leonard and Sam’s conversation takes precedence over Jim and Uhura running away from the rest of one of the Klingon teams. Prigon shouts and laughs as one of the Klingons manages to smash a rock over Kirk’s head, the Captain stumbling to the ground. Spock’s hands clutch the armrests of the chair, barely keeping himself from getting up. The Klingon stands above Kirk, lifting the rock and ready to throw it down, but Uhura picks up a branch and swipes, knocking him back. She helps Kirk to his feet, getting him running again despite some stumbling. 

"Oh, that was a good hit. He may have a concussion," Prigon chuckles.

"If he’s seriously injured, how will he continue the game?" Spock demands.

"Eh, we can take care of that with a little vegtoc," Prigon shrugs.

The split screen viewing ends on the HUD, the camera zooming out from Uhura dragging Jim along. The arena slowly comes into view, forests on mountains and rolling hills. But the further back it pulls, the odder it becomes. Ledges of mountains drop off into oblivion, a massive chunk of rock and foliage floating in the sky. Water pours off the edges, misting into nothing. A camera pans over top, showing the ocean far below.

"How iz’that possible?" Chekov asks, leaning forward in his seat.

"Most of it’s fake," Prigon shrugs, "This is all made inside a programable arena. The islands are real though."

"How iz it floating?"

"How the hell should I know?" Prigon snuffs. 

As soon as the camera stops panning around, the edges of the island begin to shake. Chunks of rock fall down into the ocean, the trees shaking and small screens of all the contestant teams coming up. With a deafening crack, the center of the island begins to crack, the camera looking at it from above as the island cleaves into four pieces. The screen zooms in on an Andorian team, 3 of the 4 unable to run fast enough to outpace the expanding of the crack– the 4 th doesn’t make it much farther as a tree falls in her way. It’s hard to see in that small of a section screen, but regardless, Jim and Uhura manage to get themselves to their feet as the shock waves subside. 

"They’ve really outdone themselves," Prigon whistles.

"Haven’t they?" Jack asks as he strides in through the hall doors, not bothering to ask permission to enter the bridge. Spock almost moves to correct the error, but without power in this situation, it’s unwise. 

"Hm, Jackie-boy," Prigon purrs, "What brings you?"

"I’ve come to relieve you of your post," Jack says, "I’m done with my duties for now, and I expect you have a watch party to be getting to?"

"By the Nine, you’re a lifesaver," Prigon coos, pinching his cheek as she strides past him. The door shuts behind her, Jack’s sure posture deflating.

"Ah… it’s odd finding myself in like company after so long," Jack sighs, pausing when he sees Spock in the Captain’s chair, "Well, mostly like company, I guess."

"Might I inquire who you are?" Spock asks, his hands clutching the armrests.

"Jack Foster," He says, striding around the bridge, not paying the screen any attention, "Wow… is this all Earth technology?"

Spock allows himself to get up from the chair, watching Jack closely, "For the most part yes. This ship was rebuilt at the Yorktown space station, but the designs were made by Starfleet on Earth."

"Damn… coming a long way from the Walkman, huh, humanity?" Jack muses to himself, reaching out a finger towards the communications desk.

"Do not touch anything," Spock warns. 

Jack’s eyes snap up to him, his hand freezing before retracting. With his hands behind his back, he turns to face the Vulcan, "What is this thing anyhow?"

"It is our communications array," Spock says. When the screen changes subjects, his eyes draw to it. But when it’s not any of their crew, he looks back to Jack, "It’s to allow us to communicate with the other ships and bases–"

"I know the basics of what they do," Jack hisses, "But… does it really work all the way out here?"  
"It depends on who you’re trying to reach." 

"Could you reach Earth with this thing?" Jack asks. 

Spock quirks a brow, "It would take some time, but potentially. It would be much easier to contact other Starfleet ships and gain assistance that way."

Jack goes silent for a moment, looking up to the screen. A group of Vulcans, T’Lyra at their lead, storm up towards an encampment crowded with weaponry and crates– the armory. His lip quirks up for a moment before he seems to stagger, his shoulders sagging.

"How… would you like it if I helped release your crew? Get you away from here." He offers. 

Spock’s brow quirks higher, sharing a glance with Sulu, "How would you be able to do that?"

"If you get reinforcements out here, I can shut down their Quadrantal surveillance to keep the Caliguans from realizing what’s going on." Jack says.

"I will only agree to that if we send someone down with you," Spock retorts.

"Well, I have a condition of my own," Jack drags a hand through his hair, "I… I don’t know if my wife will be too keen on coming along–"

"Your wife?" Sulu asks, turning around, "You don’t mean Ms. Hatfield do you?"

"Nah, nah, nah, " Jack waves his hand, "She’s uh… the one murdering the guy on screen right now."

T’Lyra’s growl of anger crackles through the speakers as she bashes a mourning star into someones face repeatedly. The other Vulcans of her troop attack other Vulcans, chasing them out of the armory. 

"Vhat iz the point of zhat?" Chekov winces and looks away from the screen.

"No two teams of the same race can win the game. T’Lyra takes the approach of killing the other team off as quickly as she can to ensure her winning," Jack shrugs, like it’s no problem, "I don’t think it works, but T’Lyra has her methods as I have mine."

"A fitting name for her," Spock muses, "But what is your condition?"

"Yeah…" Jack sighs, "I need for you to at least take my daughter."


	12. AN: Very sorry <:(

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would really like responses from y'all

So I have no idea if people want me to keep updating this but I'm struggling to. There's things I've thought about and I hate how the characterization turned out in this. Plus there's other things I wanna change about the plot.

 

If I redid this, would anyone read it? I already redid this once and idk if anyone would put up with reading it all over again... please tell me your thoughts?


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